#do you guys peel grapes? like sometimes i like the inside without the peel. but other times i like to feel the grape pop

[unbeleevable]

I crave grapes 24/7

[duhliriouss]

Gotham’s Little Prince:

Part One

A Request For: @jokers-doll Here you go Doll, I hope you like this first part :)

Summary: Y/N finds out she’s pregnant with Joker’s baby. Terrified of how he will react, she hides the evidence until she can muster up the courage to tell him.

A/N: Buckle up because this is more than just a story of reader telling Joker she’s pregnant. There’s aftermath, protection and a beautiful birth❣️this was supposed to be a one shot but I got carried away like always 🖤

Beta Reader: @arthur-flecks-lovely-smile thank you again! Im so glad I found you ❣️ The perfect Beta Reader. Everyone should check out her work too, it’s amazing and it inspires me :)

Word Count: 2,934

Warnings: Mentions of Sex, Swearing, Pregnancy, Mentions of Violence

You were tired, exhausted actually. After Joker had overthrown Gotham, you have both worked tirelessly day in and day out to get where you have gotten in this very moment.

And there you were - standing outside on the balcony of Wayne’s Manor, with your hands on the railings looking out over the trees at the cities buildings that stood tall in the distance. Even though it was right outside the city, it was the perfect place for a king and his queen. This is where you and Joker lived now after hearing of the Wayne families death, and a luxury it was. How ironic it had been that you both had everything you could possibly ever dream of; a warm bath in a marble tub that blended with the white marble floors, grapes picked right off the vine for you and Joker to share after a long day, aged wine worth hundreds, a magnificent California king size bed with a canopy of dark red drapes cascading down the frames. Everything, everything except the daily doses of Gotham’s chaos. It was too peaceful here for you and your king sometimes. 

So that is why you stood where you were in this moment, Joker and Your’s favorite spot, the only spot in the manor to be able to still see the tall structures as they inundated with the smoke that rose from Gotham’s streets.

You usually accompanied Joker during his daily tasks and crimes. He’s been a busy man since this all started, usually making sure his followers were keeping guard around the entire city’s borders.

No one comes in... and nobody leaves.

But you have stayed behind this past week and a half, you weren’t feeling well. You blamed it on your upcoming period since you tended to belong to the unlucky kind of woman who couldn’t even get out of bed during their cycle. Though your period never came, and you have grown worried. Joker has been very stressed recently so you haven’t dared to talk to him about your own distresses and concerns.

It was unlike you to keep things from Joker. You first met when you were walking home from work one day. You saw a clown dancing happily to piano music on the street with a sign reading “EVERYTHING MUST GO”. You watched him as you came closer only to find a group of punks stealing his sign and running away with it. You quickened your steps and followed as the clown chased after the teenagers. After a couple blocks you thought you had lost sight of his bright colored getup. Ready to give up, you went to turn around until you saw him laying almost lifeless down the ally in front of you. You saw no sight of the punks so you started to run until you were close enough to kneel down by the clown. You helped him up and brushed off the asphalt that stuck to his clothes.... and the rest has been history.

You sighed deeply, still flicking your (y/e/c) eyes to the buildings in the distance. You held your tummy as your mind rambled anxiously. You knew it was possible you could be pregnant. Joker wasn’t one to care for protection or pulling out. And neither were you for that matter. The sensation was just too staggering to give a shit. You were both so impulsive, you were perfect for each other.

As you looked out your mind continued to ramble with thought after thought. Joker was out there in between those buildings somewhere. You were planning on going out to get a pregnancy test without being seen by anybody. This would be a difficult task since everyone knew who you were, everyone knew you were Joker’s Queen.

You took one last sigh before turning on your heels to go back inside. You scurried down the hallways and corridors to your bedroom to change your clothes into something that would make you less noticeable. After a couple minutes of searching you found a oversized black coat that had probably belonged to Thomas Wayne. You also picked out some black jeans you owned. You quickly got dressed and took a look in the mirror, taking your (y/h/c) hair and pulling it behind your head to tuck it in the back of the coat. You then reached over and grabbed a clown mask, setting it over your face before pulling up the hoodie over your head. You felt confident that you could get away with this look and blend in.

And with that you were off, leaving the building with ease without being seen by any of the “guards” that Joker had stationed around your new home. You were allowed to leave whenever you wanted but you didn’t want to chance any of them telling Joker you had left. You had imagined beforehand what it would be like; Coming home early only to find one of his henchman tattling to him before he could even reach the main doors. Revealing to him how you were spotted leaving, without a return. You knew he would be very concerned for your wellbeing. You’d rather just come clean now than have to make Joker go through such affliction.

Your walk was longer than usual since you stayed in the shadows. You took allies that weren’t occupied and kept your head down as protesters and rallies passed. You entered the first convenient store you saw. You didn’t have to buy anything right now In this city as the mayhem was at its peak recently. No one was working since it was too dangerous. Almost all stores had smashes in the window and most people looted as they pleased. You walked straight in through the window and found the feminine section fairly quickly. You took what you needed and left and fast as you came.

You were home safe without being noticed by a soul. You peeled the clothes off putting them back where you found it and changed back into your dark blue polka dot flare dress. You walked straight to a bathroom that usually wasn’t used by Joker and Yourself. You lifted your dress and sat down, staring down at the box that contained the test. You felt unsure now.

Did you really want to know right now? What if it’s positive? How will your beloved Joker react?

Your heart started to pound in your ears as these new thoughts rose throughout you. You couldn’t see this being a positive outcome. You really didn’t want to see Joker mad. He was so unpredictable with his emotions that sometimes you didn’t even know if you knew him. He’s not Arthur anymore. However, Joker was still very tender towards you. Warm and gentle for the most part. But you also knew certain things caused him to lash out. You actually loved how unpredictable he was at times. It made everything new and exciting. But right now you were seeing how this could be a not so great and not so thrilling thing.

You were feeling dizzy now. Your mind going a mile a minute, you tried to get your breathing under control.

“You can do this. Joker will still love you no matter what. Just take the test.” You consoled softly to yourself.

You took a few more deep breaths before opening the box. 1980’s pregnancy tests were test tubes that took 2 hours before showing results. So you were in for a very tense wait. And a nervous one at that since you were never sure when Joker was going to be home. You did everything you were supposed to do. You shook the urine in the test tube and placed it behind the toilet on the floor for no one to see. You took the box and crinkled it up inside out, discarding it deep in the trash. Now all there was to do was wait. And it WAS a very tense wait. You made a mental note to keep your eye on the clock for when it was ready to check.

You tried to keep your mind off of it by watching tv, a fail. You paced the halls over and over with your hands clenched behind your back. You even went outside to get fresh air and smell the roses that had begun to wilt outside. You were running out of ideas to ease this edge. And oh so badly did you need a cigarette right now. You usually smoked almost as much as Joker but you haven’t dared the past few days. Joker actually noticed this the other day and questioned you to see if everything was alright. Only then did you stutter out an excuse by saying your throat was scratchy and it made it worse. And what a stupid excuse it was, initiating your guilt as he ran to make you herbal tea with tender kisses for the rest of the night.

You went back inside to check the clock.

30 minutes left

With a impatient huff, you went to go try and watch tv again In the bedroom. You walked down the hallway for what seemed like the 80th time today and turned to step into the bedroom. You gasped, jumping backward when you saw that Joker was standing right there. He saw that he’d startled you. He reached his arms out for you, a smirk evidently written on his face.

“My sweet darling girl, how I’ve missed you today”

You straightened yourself out and smiled sheepishly. He always made you a blushing mess. You skipped over and let yourself fall into his arms. He instantly scooped you up with ease, making you instinctively wrap your legs around him and letting your head fall over his shoulder. He wasn’t much taller than you but he still always managed to hold and carry you comfortably.

“I’ve missed you too. And you’re home so early.” You tried to hide the nervousness in your voice.

He started to draw circles on your back as he spoke. “A clown can only do so much crime my love. Besides, I thought I’d surprise you with something tonight since you haven’t been feeling well.” His voice cracked huskily.

Your body sunk heavier into him. You didn’t know your guilt could make you feel this culpable. You leaned back to look in Joker’s green orbs as he held you, putting on your best fake smile.

“What is it?”

“Stay here doll while I go get it for you, I left it in the kitchens”

Joker placed you down gently and began to make his way out the door, stopping at the door frame. He kept his gaze forward as he spoke. “Don’t move a muscle, I know how sneaky you can be, my little squirrel”

You smiled sheepishly one last time until he was out of site. Joker knew you all too well, seeing how you poked your head around the doorframe until he was out of site again. You were confident you had enough time to race down back to the bathrooms and check on your fate. The bathrooms were much closer than the kitchens. You couldn’t wait any longer. You took your first sharp right turn down another coordinator, making your way to the end before taking another sharp right which led off to the bathroom. As you took your last turn you stopped in your tracks instantly as you saw Joker standing right outside the bathroom doors talking to one of his female followers that helped keep guard around the building. You hid yourself around the corner and poked your head out slightly to listen. They didn’t notice you.

“Why are you showing me this? I don’t even know what that is”

“It’s a pregnancy test Sir, I don’t know who’s it is but it’s positive, just figured I’d show you before tossing it out”

You leaned your back fully against the wall around the corner now. Your hands found your mouth to muffle your sobs as tears poured down your cheeks. Not only did you just find out you were pregnant, but this was also not the way you wanted your Joker to find out. How was he going to react now, Keeping it from him like that?

Will he even still love me? he’s THE Joker. The infamous man that’s killed multiple under his own will. Why would a man like him want a baby with someone like me? Especially in such a disorderly world that we have created together. He’s going to make me leave this place. Probably force me to move somewhere else far away to somewhere safer. I’ll never see him again!

Your eyes were scrunched tightly closed. You let your hair fall messily around your face as you continued to muffle your sobs with your hands. You were so caught up in the shock you didn’t think to run away. And you didn’t notice Joker was standing right in front of you now.

“Y/N...”

Your breath caught in your throat. You slowly started to take your hands away from your mouth. You kept your head down with your arms stick straight by your sides, your hands balled up in little fists. You peaked your eyes up to look your destiny in the face. Your eyes began to dart around his face, desperate to find any emotion apparent on his features. But... nothing. You couldn’t see any emotion. His red painted lips displayed a thin line. His eyes showed emptiness, not even the green in his irises were visible.

Joker watched your eyes dart around him desperately. He knew it was your test. Why else would you be hiding around the corner in a complete dismantled mess? He cleared his throat and tried one more time.

“Y/N, answer me”

You finally let go and burst into tears. Covering your whole face with your hands and sobbing as you pleaded. “I’m so sorry!! I didn’t know either and I was just coming to check. I promise I was going to tell you today! I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you. I’m so sorry I left this place by myself and stole the test without telling you! I know I should have told you my worries sooner but... you’ve just been so stressed recently and so busy I didn’t want to bother you or stress you more. Please forgive me Joker! Please don’t make me leave this city! I love it too much now! I’m so sorry, I didn’t know what to do”

Your head stayed down as you sobbed and hyperventilated between each sentence as you cluttered. Joker watched you with his lips slightly parted without interrupting your break down. After you were finished, you continued to breath heavy and brought your hands up to wipe your tears with your balled fists. A couple seconds had passed without hearing a response from him, which caused you look up to see if he was even still there.

He was, but his features still looked emotionless to you. Maybe a little bit shocked? You opened up your mouth to speak again but was stopped short when Joker’s laughs began to fill the corridor, echoing down the halls. His face showed a semi wide grin as he laughed louder, placing his hand on his chest. He didn’t look mad, he also didn’t seem very sympathetic to you in this moment either. And it definitely wasn’t a laughing attack. It sounded like his real, true laugh. They started to die down into giggles as he wiped the tears from his face. This all hit you hard in the chest.

“I think I’ll go no—“

You were interrupted as Joker scooped you up in an immense hug. Swirling you around a couple times before stopping to sway you back and forth, drawing circles on your back like he did in your bedroom.

“My dear Y/N...You really are a sneaky little squirrel”

You couldn’t speak. Your mind bounced around to what the hell was going on. You felt comforted however as he held and swayed you before bringing his head back to look at you. None of this was what you were expecting.

“Look at me.” His voice was calm

You leaned back as he did and looked into eyes. You could see his green oceans now. And you could still see the tears in his eyes from laughing.

“My little squirrel, do you see these tears?”

“Yes...”

“They’re tears of joy darling, I would never be angry over something like this”

“Y-you’re really not mad?” You stuttered through your new found tears.

“Of course not.” He cooed in his high pitched voice. He began to walk forward until your back was against the cool wall, leveraging you as he still held you to free one of his hands, gently placing it over your tummy as he spoke more. “I put a prince in your belly”. He said it in a British accent, causing you to giggle.

“How do you know? It could be a princess!”

“I just have a feeling. But we shall see darling”

You couldn’t stop smiling now. And neither could joker. You started to feel a little silly for being so worried in the first place. You both cried happily as you brought your head into his chest, taking in his scent that smelled like cigarettes, mint, and blood. Joker took his hand off your tummy and brought you closer, placing his hand in your hair now to slightly stroke the (y/h/c) strands.

“Is that why you haven’t been smoking?”

“Yeah..” you replied innocently

“So sneaky...”

[emoboijk]

KSJ | Photo Booth

You’re the twerpy best friend of his little brother. Or maybe more. —fluff

5,638 words

p.cred

Park Jimin. The perfect boyfriend. Handsome, cute, great body, good listener, funny. A catch, by anyone’s standards. And when you’d asked him out, and he’d said yes, you thought yourself the luckiest girl in the world. It had been nearly three months of bliss. Bliss which came crashing down around you at the words, “I’m gay.”

“What?” You coughed, snorting grape soda out of your nose and staining your t-shirt so that it looked like you’d spit up on yourself. You pushed that aside to be worried about later. “You’re what?”

Jimin sighed and ran a hand through his hair so that he looked like a model on the set of a photo shoot, “I wasn’t sure…when you asked me out, I wasn’t sure. But,” his cheeks tinted pink, “I made out with this guy at a party the other night.”

“Well,” you sputtered, feeling the ray of light that Jimin was in your life flickering out, and you reached for it like a child, desperate for it to stay, “You were drunk so…”

“But then,” he looked away from you and when you followed his gaze Jung Hoseok was leaning against his beat up, red Camaro with a happy smile on his face, his eyes locked on Jimin. Jimin sighed again, “We…um…we…well, let’s just say I know for sure now. I’m gay. I’m sorry I can’t date you anymore.”

You tried to hide your disappointment. This was big for him—he’d come out, found someone to be with. For all intents and purposes, his life was great. Who were you to ruin it for him? You were looking at the ground as you said, “It’s okay Jimin, I understand. Thanks for being honest with me.”

Jimin patted your shoulder and said, with a sad smile, “You were a great girlfriend, really, I’d keep going out with you if…”

You patted his hand on your shoulder, “It’s okay Jimin. You don’t have to apologize.”

“Okay,” he sighed, an awkward tension filling the space between you as he rocked back on his heels, “I’ll talk to you later?”

“Yeah,” you sighed, “Later.”  

Taehyung came up two minutes later with his backpack slung over his shoulder and a happy-go-lucky grin on his face. He plopped into the seat next to you and waited a moment before stating the obvious, “So what’s wrong with you today?”

You sighed, “Jimin’s gay.”

Taehyung snorted, falling forward as laughter racked his chest. “No, he’s not! Really?” he gasped, hitting his chest to help him breathe. “Oh my god!”

You sighed and buried your face into your hands, feeling humiliated—your boyfriend was gay, you had a purple stain on your shirt, and you had forgotten to do your math homework for fifth period. Your day couldn’t get any worse.

“Call me!” This voice was shrill and high pitched and typically used to support football players on game nights. And when you looked up from your humiliation, Joy Park was bouncing up and down in her form-fitting cheerleading attire, waving enthusiastically at Taehyung’s older brother, the swim star (and the bane of your existence from 9-5, Monday through Friday): Kim Seokjin.

He shrugged at her entreaty and climbed into his Jeep Cherokee with more grace than a prima ballerina performing swan lake. He revved the engine and peeled out of the high school parking lot, waving to Tae as he did so. Taehyung just rolled his eyes.

And you had been wrong. That scene had made your day worse. Kim Seokjin always made it worse.

Kim Seokjin was a gorgeous, swimming, genius, who was a notorious flirt and who had known you since you were a baby. He knew everything about you in the same way that Taehyung did, except he didn’t care about you nearly as much as Taehyung. To Kim Seokjin you were nothing but the snot-nosed best friend of his kid brother. And to you, he was the super annoying, super gorgeous boy that you’d had a crush on since the second grade.

And second grade crushes are hard to let go of. Ask anybody.

“Okay, okay,” Taehyung said, rubbing soothing circles into your back, “It’s not the end of the world. Homework, movies, and pizza. My place?”

You sat up and leaned against his shoulder, smiling happily, “Yes please.”

The Kim Palace was a modern, two-story mansion that had an entire side of the house made of windows. Which had never seemed very practical to you, but you’d learned to let it go. Taehyung and Seokjin’s father was an extremely successful CEO of a company whose business you didn’t understand. You tried to think of it as little as possible.

“Hi, sweetie,” Taehyung’s mom said, pecking his cheek as he passed her in the kitchen. She smiled at you too, squeezing your shoulder, “Hi, pumpkin.”

“Hi, Mrs. Kim,” you smiled, following Taehyung through the maze of his house and out onto the deck. There was a massive pool outside, surrounded by lawn chairs and a wood deck with tables. That’s where you and Tae preferred to do homework when the weather was agreeable. As for Seokjin, that’s where he preferred to do laps.

You were thirty minutes into a biology assignment when the doorbell resounded through the house, and Taehyung leaped from his seat, “Pizza!” He grabbed his wallet and made for the door, which gave you plenty of time to admire the view...

Seokjin was doing broad strokes up and down the length of the pool, his muscular arms slicing through the water at a rhythmic pace. You sighed and leaned your cheek against your hand, watching as his never-ending shoulders appeared out of the water, his hair slicked back and skin bronzing from his efforts.

“See something you like?” he smirked at you, rising from the pool in one smooth motion so that he trailed water around the edge.

“Um, no,” you said, blushing anyway, “Ew.”

Seokjin chuckled and climbed the porch steps, picking up a towel and towering over you at the table so that he blocked your light. You bit the inside of your cheek, “You’re dripping on my bio homework,” you scowled.

Seokjin bent down and shook out his hair, splattering you and your homework in the process. You gasped, your mouth open and wide in shock, “Jin!”

“Oops,” he smirked, shrugging.

“Pizza!” Taehyung said, cutting off when he saw your expression. He rolled his eyes and put the pizza on the table, directing his words at Seokjin, “Can you not torment her today? She just broke up with Jimin.”

“Oh, the gay one?” Seokjin asked, opening the box and helping himself to a slice.

You groaned, “Has word already spread?”

Seokjin chuckled, “No. But I’ve known that he was gay since like the second he asked you out.”

“What!” you gasped, enraged, “You knew!”

Seokjin shrugged, “He’d stare sometimes,” he said around a mouth full of pizza.

“Why didn’t you say something!” You were practically screeching.

Seokjin smiled at you, taking another piece of pizza and walking away without another word. You slumped back into your seat, hiding your face in your folded arms, Taehyung chuckling in front of you. “I hate your brother,” you whined.

Taehyung leaned across the table and patted your hand, “You might be the only one.”

Three hours later you were standing in the doorway of the Kim Palace, saying an extended goodbye to Taehyung. You held your books to your chest and ignored Tan-ie, his little dog, as you whined, “Don’t go, Taehyung-ah!”

“I have to go,” he chuckled, “I play the lead character.”

You frowned, “I don’t see why that matters.”

Taehyung chuckled and patted your head affectionately (if not a bit condescendingly) before saying, “I think you’ll survive a week without me.”

“I would’ve thought so,” you said, “but my boyfriend turned out to be gay,” you pouted. And despite the humor you were trying to evoke, and Taehyung’s subsequent laugh, he saw the sadness that tinged your expression.

He pulled you in for a tight hug, squeezing you warmly, “You’ll be fine.”

“Okay,” you sighed, “Text me when you leave?”

He chuckled, “As if I’m not going to text you a play-by-play of my packing adventures.”

“I’m counting on it,” you sniffled, turning to walk back down his drive and around the corner, where your house was. Taehyung sighed as he watched you go, feeling as if he was abandoning you. He ground his teeth together, Jimin couldn’t have waited just one more week to break the news?

The door shut with a definitive click and Taehyung turned around abruptly, “Seokjin-hyung!” he bellowed, the sound practically echoing through the large house.

Seokjin had a hand pressed to one of his ears, the other around a sandwich when he appeared out of the kitchen. “What?” he whined, taking a bite of the sandwich, the irritation fading almost as quickly as it had appeared.

“Do me a favor?” Taehyung said, walking past him and into the kitchen. The sandwich makings were still laid out on the counter, and he busied his hands by making himself one.

Seokjin snorted, “No.”

“Come on,” Taehyung said, not phased by his brother’s immediate reaction, “She’s going to be all alone.”

“A girl alone?” Seokjin smirked, his eyebrows raising at the possibilities, “Why didn’t you just say so?”

Taehyung rolled his eyes, “Look her boyfriend just broke up with her, she’s going through some rough times. Will you just look out for her for me?”

Seokjin groaned and with his mouth full said, “Your twerpy best friend?”

Taehyung sighed and shook his head, “Dude, I know you like her.”

“Well, yeah, but she’s…my baby sister,” Seokjin said, nearly stuttering but saving himself as he paused to bite his sandwich. Taehyung looked at him skeptically but decided that this was probably not the best time to push the matter.

“Whatever,” Taehyung said, “I’ll give you fifty bucks.”

“Well, when you put it that way,” Seokjin smirked.

Kim Seokjin dropped his kid brother Taehyung off in the high school parking lot at 7 AM Monday morning, accepting his fifty-dollar bribe before watching him climb onto the bus with the rest of the theatre nerds, with every intention to not do as his brother asked. And Taehyung, waving to him from one of the bus windows, knew this; but he also knew that his brother would end up hanging out with you, because of his super-secret feelings for you.

Seokjin stuffed the money into his jacket pocket before walking into the school with his backpack slung on his shoulder. Might as well get in a few laps before school started. But he paused outside the double doors into the school, a doubt creeping into his mind that annoyed him to no end.

Did you have a ride to school?

Taehyung usually picked you up in his rickety sedan before school. Seokjin turned and looked in the direction of your house—you lived twenty blocks from the school. You wouldn’t…walk, would you?

He remembered the fifty dollars burning a hole in his pocket and his annoying good-natured brother, and his even more annoying best friend. Seokjin groaned, “Dammit,” before heading back to his car.

You were just locking the front door when Seokjin pulled up in front of your place. You raised your eyebrows in surprise, your mother backing out of the driveway in a hurry as she shouted out the window, “Hurry, I’m already late!”

Seokjin rolled his eyes at you and motioned to his car and you bit back your smile, yelling at your mother, “I’ll get a ride with Seokjin!” She was out of the driveway in nearly thirty seconds flat.

“So,” you said, stepping up into the jeep and buckling yourself in, “you’re a good Samaritan now?”

“Nope,” he said, smiling despite himself.

“Thanks,” you said, scrolling through your phone to avoid looking at him, your heart racing, “I think my mom was going to have a coronary.”

Your day was…ordinary. If not exceptionally boring. You shared five of your six periods with Taehyung, and without him life was dreadful. In Chemistry class Taehyung was your usual partner, but because of his and another theatre kid’s absence, you had to pair up with Tzuyu who, while being a very lovely person, was a bit of an airhead when it came to chemistry. And then there was literature, where you were reading The Scarlet Letter and all of the insufferable jokes suffocated you. And then there was lunch, where your group of friends was found to be missing the glue that kept it together—Kim Taehyung. And so on and so on.

Until you were left, after your final period, sitting on a bench in the front of the school with your head in your hands and your mood in the dumps. And, as if to rub it in, Jimin was with Hoseok all but fucking on the hood of his car. You groaned, feeling…defeated.

Seokjin’s hair was still wet from swim practice, and the leftover water droplets made the neck of his shirt damp. He slung his duffle bag, stuffed with old sportswear that would have his mother cursing, over his shoulder as he trekked across the parking lot. Joy Park’s clammy fingers touched his bicep and she said something in a voice that didn’t really register in his mind, the words tumbling in one ear and out the other, before his eyes fell on you—disheveled and disheartened, alone on a bench.

“Pathetic,” he said, shaking his head but smiling fondly.

“W-What?” Joy Park said, her voice offended and edgy with tears.

“Oh, not you,” Seokjin said, waving his hands innocently. Joy followed his gaze to you and she snorted.

“She looks like one of those pigeon ladies at the park,” she laughed, the sound nasally and grating.

Seokjin rolled his eyes, “Now you are pathetic.”

Joy’s face was hurt, her bottom lip puckering out and her eyes welling up. Seokjin sighed and added, “You don’t have to be rude just because she doesn’t run in your circle. She’s a friend of the family’s, okay? She’s important to them, so she’s important to me.”

Joy’s pout remained the same, but her previously tear-filled eyes were now steely with determination. She flicked her hair off her shoulder and strutted away with her friends, “Whatever.”

It was a good thing Seokjin was overflowing with social capital at this school.

He changed direction and headed toward you, forgetting about his dead-set intentions to pocket Taehyung’s fifty without doing any of the promised work. Seokjin fell against the bench heavily, dropping his bag easily and resting his arms against the back of the bench comfortably. “Sup?”

You snorted, not looking up from the ground, from your tattered converse beside Seokjin’s flip-flops. Then you sighed, your breath shaky with emotion, and Seokjin’s chest suddenly filled with pity. “My boyfriend is gay, my best friend is gone, and I…” you sighed again, “I’m being dramatic. I’m sorry. Tae is only gone for a week, and Jimin…”

“Is an idiot,” Seokjin filled in, shrugging.

You laughed, wiping your cheek of the few shed tears, “No he’s not.”

Seokjin smiled, “No, he’s not. But it still sucks. Being dumped.”

“How would you know?” you joked, sticking your tongue out at him.

He shrugged again, “You know, movies and stuff.”

“Wow,” you said, slapping his chest absently. You stood up and stretched, picking up your bag from the ground and turning to him with a shiny new smile that was only half-convincing, “Okay, I’m all good. Go away now.”

Seokjin watched you for a moment before sighing, seeing through your happy facade easily. “Want to get some ice cream?” he said, standing and picking up his own bag.

“What?”

“Ice cream,” he said, “I’m craving some. And it’s a cheat day. Do you want to come?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, “Is that code for something?”

“Oh my god,” he groaned, “No, it really fucking isn’t. Do you want to go out for ice cream or what?”

You stared at him for a moment, in shock, “Yes?”

“Okay,” he sighed, still sounding irritated but his heart racing as his hand clasped around your wrist, “Come on.”

The ice cream shop was called I-SCREAM, which you found to be entirely creepy and led you to suspect that this was some kind of Sweeny-Todd-esque front for murder, but was otherwise completely normal. Seokjin assured you that he’d never come across any body parts or ice cream that tasted like blood or brain matter or anything.

“Although, they have a killer Halloween party here every year,” he shrugged, adjusting the strap of his duffle bag across his body as he waited in line behind a little girl and her father. She turned around to stare at him with big eyes and he wagged his fingers at her, making a funny face so that she laughed and turned away giggling.

You poked him when the woman behind the counter started tapping her fingers impatiently. Seokjin stood up straight and scanned the tubs of ice cream behind the class, sucking on the inside of his cheek. “Raspberry sorbet,” he said, poking the glass to point it out and leaving a fingerprint mark so that the woman narrowed her eyes in annoyance. You snorted and he turned to look at you questioningly.

“That’s kind of a sissy flavor,” you commented, peering through the glass before saying, “Fudge brownie, please.”

Seokjin snorted this time, “At least I’m not a chocolate whore.”

You gasped, “Did you just call me a whore?”

The woman behind the counter rolled her eyes and slid the ice cream over the top of the glass to you both. You followed Seokjin up to the register, ready to pull out your wallet when he paid in one swift motion. He walked over to a table with his spoon in his mouth, “Whore? That’s all you took from that?”

You finished off a bite of fudge brownie ice cream and waved your spoon with a flourish, “Isn’t ‘whore’ the most important part of what you said?”

Seokjin squinted. His thinking face. He’d made it many times over the years, but your particular favorite was at the end of his junior year when he was preparing to take the SATs. It was like a constant thinking face for three months. You thought he might never go back to normal.

“So,” you said, savoring the remaining ice cream on your tongue before continuing, “how much did Tae pay you to babysit me?”

Seokjin snorted, “He didn’t pay me.”

You rolled your eyes and pushed your ice cream around with the spoon. “You wouldn’t be here with me if Tae hadn’t made you.”

Seokjin’s brow furrowed and he looked at you seriously, “Yes, I would’ve.” You searched his expression for a moment, finding no deception there. But you still weren’t tempted to believe him. He shrugged, “But, also, fifty bucks.”

You left the shop twenty minutes later, trading snarky sarcastic comments back and forth with him as you did so, ignoring the fluttery, happy feeling in your chest. Seokjin, too, was trying to ignore the tugging he felt in his chest as he watched you grin and laugh and joke. Part of him wanted to get out, leave, run away, hide in his bedroom until this feeling went away. Maybe even call Joy Park to have her fuck the feeling away.

But when you passed the arcade at the end of the strip mall on the way back to the car, tugging on his hand excitedly, exclaiming, “I haven’t gone to an arcade in ages!” the other part of him, that wanted nothing more than to spend time with you and to hold your hand, the mushy part of him, won out.

You and Seokjin spent more money in the arcade, in three hours, than either of you would have ever thought possible. You played every game—air hockey, skee ball, racing games, shooting games—until you stood in the center of the room, amazed that you had done it all.

“I’m exhausted,” Seokjin whined.

You smiled over at him and exhilaration took the place of his exhaustion. There was a slight sheen of sweat on your forehead (from that second bout of intense air hockey) and your hair had fallen from its ponytail so that errant strands hung in a beautiful, inconceivable pattern. Your lips were parted and your eyes shone with enthusiasm.

He was struck, not really for the first time, by how beautiful you had become. In the early years, when you and Taehyung were just the two kids that hung out at his house, he’d never thought much of you. But by the time you were fourteen, and he was fifteen, he’d started to…notice. And then puberty hit you like a high-speed train and, despite his many attempts to feel otherwise, he was hooked.

You had your hands on your hips, saying something to him that he hadn’t heard in the midst of his trance. “Huh?”

“I said,” you pouted, crossing your arms, “You’re basically a pro-swimmer and a little arcade action tires you out?”

Seokjin chuckled, “If this were in the water, I’d be fine,” he poked your nose, making your face scrunch up cutely. “And whatever, you’re tired, too.”

You were about to argue, lips open to say something sarcastic, when you spotted it: a dinky little box with an opening on the side, veiled by a thick red curtain. You smiled and looked back to him, “One more thing and then we can leave.”

“What?” he whined, petulantly, like a child.

Your fingers wrapped around his wrist and tugged him forward, spinning him to face you as you stood triumphantly in front of the box. “Photobooth!”

Seokjin sighed, “Those things cost like ten bucks!”

“Come on,” you pleaded, “This is the first time we’ve ever hung out where,” you paused, fumbling over the words in your sudden rush, “where I haven’t irritated the crap out of you and, and you weren’t the bane of my existence.”

Seokjin was about to dispute your statement, say something completely false like, “You don’t irritate me.” But he knew that wasn’t the point of your statement. You weren’t trying to pick a fight, you were just…happy. That you were getting along.

And he was, too.

So he shelled out the ten bucks for the photos and squeezed into the booth with you. He didn’t react when the quarters were so small that you had to squish into his side. He let you lift his arm and wrap it around your shoulders until you were resting against him comfortably. He hoped you couldn’t feel his heart skip a beat when you put your hand on his chest. And, during the third of the five flashes, when he’d decided that the only he wanted right at that moment was to kiss you…he didn’t fight that feeling.

He turned to look at you, tilting up your chin so that you were looking directly at him. The camera flashed capturing your confused look as the arm wrapped around your shoulders pulled your body into his until it was tucked perfectly against him, and he leaned down to kiss you.

The camera flashed moments after his lips touched yours, feeling so much better than the times you’d practiced on the back of your hand. He tilted his head so that you were like puzzle pieces, clicking into place, a sense of belonging washing over you that could only come from finding your place.

He pulled away just as the pictures printed, depositing into the slot. He opened his eyes, feeling breathless and, suddenly, terrified. You still had your eyes closed, leaning into him, lips open, stunned. It would have made him smile if the whole thing hadn’t stricken him with fear.

“What have I done?” he whispered, touching his lips like he’d been burned.

“Huh?” you whispered, blinking a couple times like you were waking from a dream.

“I have to go,” he said, “I…I have to go.” He pushed past you roughly, running from the photo booth, out of the arcade and into his car, driving away feeling guilty. And leaving you with the photos and the necessity to call your mom.

You didn’t see him for the rest of the week, which wasn’t hard to do, you guessed. You didn’t share any classes, you didn’t live close by, you didn’t do similar extracurricular activities. It seemed that Taehyung was the only thing you had in common. Which is why it took Taehyung getting back for you to see him again.

You were sitting on the floor, Taehyung on the couch, one of his legs dangling over the edge so that his smelly feet were in your face; he was trying to distract you from the round of Mario Kart you were winning.

Seokjin walked in on the scene, immediately tensing and sucking in a breath so suddenly that it sounded like a hiss. He was in the middle of backing out, ready to go out the garage and around the front of the house to get into the kitchen, when Taehyung said, “Hey hyung.”

“Uh,” Seokjin paused, eyes watching you, your eyes never leaving the TV screen, “hey.” He nearly tiptoed across the living room and into the kitchen, struggling to keep his eyes forward instead of watching for your reaction.

As soon as he was gone the game paused and Taehyung kicked you in the shoulder. You whined, putting your controller down and taking a sip of your soda.

“What was that all about?” he said.

“What?” you asked, turning to squint at him in a perfect imitation of nonchalance.

Taehyung rolled his eyes, swallowing the water he’d been drinking before saying, “That. With Jin?”

“What do you mean?” you shrugged, leaning against the couch, “He didn’t even say anything.”

“Exactly!” Taehyung was exclaiming, “He’s Kim Seokjin! He always has some kind of pun or joke, and he said nothing. The room was ice. What happened while I was gone?”

“Nothing,” you emphasized, already feeling your resistance fade in the face of his persistence.

“Oh,” Taehyung sighed, “Is this about the money I gave him? Because I just—”

You chuckled, “No, no,” you shook your head, “But, really, Tae? I’m only worth fifty bucks?”

He shrugged, “It’s all I had on me.”

You shoved his knee playfully and paused, the confession you’d been gathering in your chest since that day in the photobooth like strands of fog you couldn’t hold onto. Taehyung sunk off the couch so that he was sitting next to you, his arm pushing lightly against yours. “Hey,” he said, softly, “What’s up?”

Your eyes moved to meet his, suddenly watery with tears, “He kissed me.”

“So?” Taehyung said, his voice just as soft as before. He was not surprised. It didn’t take an idiot to see his brother liked you. And you’d accidentally confessed about your crush on him drunk at a party one night.

“I think he thinks it was a mistake,” you whispered, clenching your jaw to stop the tears.

Seokjin leaned against the kitchen door, the soda he’d grabbed now warm in his hand, his heart breaking at your words.

After about a week and a half of playing the “date” and the kiss over and over in your head, and of absolutely no contact between you and Seokjin (except when Taehyung dragged him into it like a scientist putting a spider and scorpion in the same room to see who would flinch first), you had let go of the poor-school-girl tears you’d sobbed to Taehyung over Mario Kart and felt only irritation.

Well, rage, now. Rage because you’d been pining over him. Pining because, although you had not known it was a date, it was the perfect date and his lips had tasted like strawberry chapstick and frozen yogurt. So you’d been pining and wallowing and eating a pint of ice cream a night because it was the only thing that could sustain your soul.

And he was with Joy Park, perched on the hood of his Jeep with her claws on his chest and her hair brushing his arm and his smile trained on her. His smile that could have been mistaken for a flinch if your eyes weren’t red with anger.

“Dude, can you believe what Yoongi-hyung said to Professor Bang today because—” Taehyung didn’t finish his statement because when he looked up from digging through his backpack (for what he wasn’t sure anymore) he saw the red-rage expression on your face. A look he’d only seen twice before—first when you were six and the new girl Yeri stepped on and broke all of your crayons, and second when you were fourteen and someone had punched him in the jaw. Both times you had resorted to physical violence, something you weren’t particularly talented at.

“I’ll be right back,” you said without looking at him, the photo strip that you’d taken to keeping in your pocket crumpling in your newly formed fist.

Seokjin saw you approaching immediately because he’d developed this sixth sense when it came to you, which really meant that he was hyper-observant of you at all times. Even when he wasn’t looking at you, he was looking at you.

“You dick!” you shouted, waving your fist toward him, the photo strip sticking out almost angrily.

Joy Park turned around so that her long dark hair slapped him in the face, making him blink. How did she not get whiplash when she did that?

“Excuse me?” she gasped, putting her hand on her chest in shock.

“I’m not talking to you,” you growled, your eyes darting in her direction momentarily before going back to Seokjin. You shoved your fist into his chest in a mock-punch that hurt you more than it hurt him, his eyes wide in shock. “Look,” you said, tears welling in your eyes as you started to lose steam, but speaking the truth anyway, “I know you find me repulsive or whatever, but you should at least tell me to my face,” you looked up at him, eyes fierce and angry with tears. You looked down to the photographs, smiling softly at them before saying, “So I don’t hold on to hope.” You took a deep breath and ripped the long strip in half, and then again and again until the pieces floated onto the sidewalk in front of his feet.

You didn’t look at him again before you walked away. And Seokjin felt as if he were dying.

A small part of you had hoped that this public display of heartbreak would inspire him, prompt some sort of confession, something to contradict the things you had said. But as the days past after the incident, and no word from him, you knew that it was over.

Something that had not even begun, was…over. And it shattered your world in a way that you would’ve thought was impossible.

Taehyung was sitting on the ground next to you, leaning against the edge of your bed, watching as you scooped raw chocolate icing into your mouth without a care in the world. He put his arm around your shoulder and squeezed.

“I just don’t get it,” you whispered, licking the spoon clean before diving it back into the slowly emptying container, “It was one…afternoon. One kiss. Why do I care so much?”

Taehyung sighed and shrugged, “You really liked him. I don’t think ‘for how long’ matters.”

You leaned your head against his shoulder, “I guess you’re right.”

“I’m always right,” Taehyung smiled, his expression changing when there was a loud knock on the door, “I’ll go get it.” You nodded and shoveled more icing into your mouth.

Taehyung reappeared in your doorway two minutes later with his face contorted in a look of displeasure, “Look,” he said, raising his hands defensively even though all you had done was look up at him, “You can tell him to fuck off.”

You raised your eyebrows, “Don’t tell me…”

“He’s my brother,” Taehyung smiled, “I have to help him out.”

“Tae,” you sighed, putting down your icing. But he merely stepped out of the way to reveal Kim Seokjin in his best pair of jeans, toting a bouquet of flowers and a picture frame.

“Hey,” he said awkwardly, hovering in the doorway.

You sighed, “What do you want?” You stood up and crossed your arms.

You could almost hear him gulp, but he pushed on anyway, “To apologize.”

You scoffed, “Really?”

“Yes,” he said. He offered the flowers to you hesitantly, and with just as much hesitance, you took them. He licked his lips before continuing, “I’m sorry. I didn’t…react very well.

You snorted, “No kidding.”

He smiled despite himself and continued, “I know I didn’t react well. I freaked out and avoided you and was…”

“A dick,” you supplied, hugging the flowers closer to your chest as hope-filled your rib cage.

“A dick,” he confirmed, smiling so that his eyes lit up when they locked with yours, “But, you have to know, that…that night with you, the kiss…it was the best night of my life,” he whispered the last part, offering the frame to you. Inside were the torn up pieces of the photobooth pictures that you’d thrown at his feet, sloppily taped together but carefully centered in the frame.

You looked from the frame to his face, eyes searching his hopefully. He smiled softly, “I’m sorry I was an idiot.”

“You didn’t have to do this,” you smiled, holding the flowers delicately in your hands as you inspected the beautiful frame holding the pictures of your first date, “A confession would’ve been enough,” you smirked.

“Well,” he chuckled, “I used the fifty bucks Taehyung gave me, so…”

“Oh, fuck off,” Taehyung whined.

author’s note— what’s my specialty in writing, you ask? tropes and clichés, thank you very much (inspired by the kissing booth, netflix)

requested by anonmous— jin, fic, ice cream dates, fluuuuffffyyyyy

for more of my works check out my m.list

[poeticsandaliens]

In the morning hour she calls me (post-finale MSR )

This is my take on the post-MS IV canon compliant babyfic. Title is taken from Country Roads (John Denver). Based in part off a post from @foxmulders about Mulder and Scully’s magic teenage son who can explode heads but knows nothing practical about adulting. Tagging @today-in-fic.

Pairing: MSR

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Slowly and strangely, Mulder and Scully reconnect with their son. 

He bought the ring years ago. She saw it tucked away in his underwear drawer, once, during the early days of living with him. Two silver bands twirled around each other in a neverending optical illusion. It had taken her a second to realize what it was, another second to realize what it meant, and a third to remember that no, they weren’t already married. They certainly fucked like newlyweds, on every surface that would hold them and some that wouldn’t. They had cracked every piece of furniture but the coffee table.

She wondered for months if he’d actually do it, drop to one knee and go through the romantic motions. Or if he’d wander into the living room one day, unshaven, hands shoved in his pockets and casually ask her to marry him. The funny thing was, meeting Mulder had solidified her desire never to get married. He was everything she found attractive in a man, and he irritated her endlessly in spite of it (and in hindsight, at least partially because of it). 

He never asked. When she peeled out of the driveway with her life measured in boxes and medical journals, she was glad for it.

They are slurping cheap shaved ice at a roadside shack, indulging the July heat. Scully has one hand wrapped possessively around a cup of mechanical snow and raspberry syrup, the other shoved into her pocket, pressed flat against her stomach in an ongoing attempt to even process the last week’s events. She can still feel her muscles ripple beneath her touch. She wonders what will come first: the vanishing of her taut abdominal muscles or the baby’s fluttering kicks. What will she hear first: a new heartbeat on a sonogram or her son’s heart beating itself back to life on the river bottom, some confirmation he sends her that he is alive and well? She feels it in her gut, but she waits for him to tell her himself.

“Hey Scully,” Mulder’s hand is on her shoulder. “You okay?” 

She nods vacantly. “Thinking,” she replies. About what, she doesn’t have to say. She eyes the grape slush at the bottom of her cup. “Ready to go home?”

“Yeah, but first,” he says, almost sheepishly, in his something to say that I want to be a surprise voice that she always indulges. “I was thinking too, about everything that’s happened in the last couple weeks. I mean, Spender’s dead, Monica’s dead, Skinner isn’t out of the woods yet, William…” he trails off. William is—their son is. Mulder rummages around his jeans pocket. “And I realized, why don’t we get married? Not now, exactly, or even at some set date, but sometime.”

Her bottom lip trembles. “Mulder…”

“Scully, will you marry me sometime?”

And there is the ring. The wedding band he saved for over a decade, that Scully had all but forgotten about, in his outstretched palm over the sticky table. His hands have blue syrup on them. Her eyes water. 

“Yees,” she promises. “Sometimes.” She takes his face in her hands and plants one on him, right there between the shake shack and the Taurus. He tastes like blueberries and cheap candy.

That night, between shuddering orgasms and sweet breath and beads of perspiration, they finally break the coffee table. 

                                                 *        *       *       *

Sunrise curls through the window. Her stomach churns at ungodly hours of the morning, so she kneels each dawn before the porcelain god, then compulsively organizes the kitchen. She needs something to do, even more so since Kersh had informed them of their suspension. So she moves the salt shaker three inches to the right to make room for a potted succulent.

Hey, Dana. Nice plant. It’s Willam’s voice. She’s never heard it in person, but God, she’d know it anywhere. That cavalier, undeniably Mulder-ish tone, as if he were a stranger who could waltz into her life without preamble. 

“William…” Her lungs flatten into her ribcage. “Jackson…”

I’m sorry about the whole dying thing, he says carefully. But you understand why I had to do it. They have to believe I’m gone. They have to believe their experiment failed. 

“William—” 

He cuts her off. Do you think you could answer some questions for me?

“William they may claim ownership of you, call you their experiment. But no matter what, you’re still a person. No matter how afraid and bitter I ever sounded. You will always be our son, and you have a place here if you want it.” She sighs through her nose; she hopes he knows what she’s telling him.

Worry about the little one right now. Of course he knows about the baby. For a moment she’s squared up to give him a talking to for being a know-it-all, but he’s such a stranger to her still. She lacks that kind of authority. That thing’s… what, the size of a blueberry? William continues. That’s what you told that Mulder guy. It’s a lot more fragile than I am. I just need to ask you a question. There is an awkward pause. She counts second until finally, William mutters, if I cut the mold off a sandwich, can I still eat it?

She can’t see him, but oh, she sees Mulder’s son. She stifles a weepy laugh. He isn’t making promises, but she chooses to focus on the fact that he hadn’t refused to come home, either. She’ll see him soon—she can feel it written like a prescription in the fiber of her bones.

                                          *       *        *       *

William communicates sporadically, over the next few weeks. She will be swinging on the front porch, as Mulder collects dead branches and hurls them across the property for Daggoo, and William’s voice will slice into her consciousness. Images will flash through her mind, sometimes the mundane and sometimes the extraordinary. One day he asks, What is it called again when you can make an object float? Telepathy or Telekinesis? The next day, can I put this burrito into the microwave with the wrapper on? And so on. What’s an easy way to hide the bullet scar in my head? How do I get coffee stains out of a white t-shirt?

Sometimes, he sticks around in her head long enough for Mulder to notice. He catches that glassy look in her eye, asks her to tell William he loves him, wishes he would come home. She always says the first part, never the second. She understands now, she cannot ask William to simply melt into their family. “He’ll come when he’s ready,” she promises Mulder, curious if William can still hear her.

I don’t feel like a William, he muses one day. That’s what you named me, right? I don’t feel like Jackson either, but I’m not sure if William is what I want to be called forever.

“We can call him Will,” Mulder suggests cautiously, hunched at his desk. He’s taken to inscribing their adventures in brilliant fiction. His reading glasses suit him. 

I’m okay with Will. Like that boy from Pirates of the Caribbean, the one who died and came back. He was pretty cool. Man, I loved those movies as a kid. He’s stopped paying attention to what he relays to her. She enjoys those oblivious moments before their connection is severed. 

                                              *      *      *      *

She lies on their tattered couch, a medical journal propped half-heartedly against her knees. She’d stopped reading awhile ago, when the flopping and fluttering began in her stomach. She’d felt it earlier, tiny jerks of movement from the inside, but nothing like this. This is the most tangible, physical reminder of the impossible baby developing inside her. She has softened, her body less wiry now, but still, she’s hardly showing; only Mulder takes notice, and he’s particularly interested in her breasts. She presses her fingers into the side of her belly and is rewarded with somersaults that make her wonder if the baby that make her think of acrobats in the Cirque de Soleil. She thinks of an old X-file, a town of Floridian sideshow performers. If it seemed odd once, she and her family would fit right into it now.

There’s a knock on the door. Skinner comes first to mind—he is their only contact with the FBI, the only person who knows where they live. She and Mulder aren’t the type to make couple-friends at local restaurants. 

Mulder thumps downstairs to the door. “I’ve got it, Scully. Don’t get up—” his words catch in his throat. 

“Mulder? Who is it?” Scully swings her stiff legs over the couch and moves to join him. She fetches her sidearm from a drawer, just in case. Her heartbeat quickens as infinite possibilities flicker through her head—agents, assassins, aliens, for God’s sake. Even that crosses her mind, if only for a second. 

But oh–there are no thick-coated men in black outside the door but her son. Their son, lanky and shaggy and taller than his father. He wears a denim jacket, ratty black jeans that cling to his legs and a t-shirt with what Scully presumes is a band name plastered across the front in such spectacular lettering she has to squint to make sure they’re letters.  

“Hey, Dana. Mulder. I’m in town for a few days and I thought, maybe I could crash here?” He looks almost guilty, his lower lip sticking out like Mulder’s. She’s struck by his rumpled, rebellious frame and how closely it resembles Mulder in his youth. And if there was ever any doubt who his father his, she can cite the genetic tendency to die dramatically and spring back to life. 

“Of course,” Mulder says and wraps him into a hug, and he lets out a little oof of surprise. He takes it in stride, though, turning to Dana with a twinkle in his eye that wasn’t there before. When she hugs him, her arms fit around his waist and not his shoulders. God, he’s a foot taller than her. 

“I didn’t know you were coming.”

He shrugs awkwardly. “I didn’t want you to.” 

“Come,” Scully says, because she’s not sure what else to say, here on the front porch of their unremarkable house. “Come inside.”

He follows her into the house, glancing around at the creaky furniture, explosions of books and manila folders, and a smile spreads across his face. “This is a cool place.”

“I’ll show you the spare bedroom.” Scully gestures to the stairs. But when she turns around, Will’s eyes are fixed somewhere else. Her breath catches, because there on the desk is the first sonogram of her unborn child. The other physical evidence, paired nicely with the barrage of kicks where her belly pokes almost unnoticeably over her slacks.

“How old is it?” he asks, and there’s an unidentifiable cadence to his voice.

“Thirteen weeks.”

He nods slightly. “You two are cute parents.”

Her heart cracks at the present tense. Are, she thinks, not will be. Are. She remembers that when three days later, he vanishes from their lives once again. 

                                          *        *        *        *

They see him once or twice more in the coming weeks. Scully has learned to recognize the rat-tat-tat of his beater car pulling into the driveway. When he does come back, he often brings some strange, uniquely tourist-y food from wherever he’d last stayed, and they work it into the evening meal. Mulder reminds her that their son has a lot to unpack at his age. 

She gets mental postcards of his life. Breathtaking scenery, shadowy forests backlit by an industrial flashlight, harkening back to her youth. He asks about laundry at first, then about her old cases. Verbally, in immense detail as she’s walking or reading or shopping for a shitty IKEA crib, she gives him the X-files. Every case feels like a pound of weight off her shoulders. She tells them like an epic, passed orally from bard to bard. It is Will’s turn now.

                                            *         *       *        *

Whoever called it a ‘baby bump’ had an extraordinarily easy pregnancy, she muses bitterly. Twenty-three weeks, she was a fuller, freckled, flush-faced painting of herself. A little heavier, probably healthier if she’s not lying. She’d hit twenty-four, like a fucking timer, and done a double take in the bathroom mirror. She looked pregnant—not long gone due-any-day, but undeniably with child, her midsection smooth and rounded out, protruding slightly even beneath her pajama shirt. 

Mulder had looked at her like she’d plucked the sun out of the sky and handed it to him. She had lain in the backyard grass next to him and it felt like they had come out of time. He pressed his hands to the sides of her belly and grinned. He had, in the course of one afternoon, told the baby about Flukeman, Sasquatch, and the Mothmen in vast detail. 

Strolling through the supermarket, she feels exposed, like her life is laid out for the world to see and judge. To line up her crow’s feet with the stretch marks on her stomach. She swears Will wasn’t this big at twenty-four weeks, or perhaps the frame he grew into hadn’t started out as tiny and tightly wound. 

“Did you ever hear the one about the woman who gave birth to a beetle?” the check-out attendant asks her. “When he got older he really bugged her!” The guy belts out a jolly laugh, and if she were anyone else she might take it in stride. 

She purses her lips. It’s not his fault that he hits too close to home. She can’t think about it, or it’ll all consume her again—Pennsylvania fields littered with tiny, mutated bodies, devil-children cremated outside mansions, insects pulled from women’s wombs. Will sliding into the world in some Godforsaken ghost town into the arms of a woman who seventeen years later would inevitably die in vain.

The woman who gave birth to a beetle? He came out of her screaming and wide-eyed and wet, like any other baby but greener than poison. He suckled her breast with pincers. She read it in an X-file, once. 

It’s too much. She presses herself into Mulder later, kisses him hungrily, seeks in him the antithesis to all her anxieties. He takes her from behind because that’s all they can manage now, and she comes so quickly and loudly it’s almost embarrassing. 

                                                    *      *      *       *

Mulder pokes the peak of her belly. A foot pokes back. She indulges him—all smiles and salt-and-pepper stubble, pushing up her t-shirts reverently touching the ponderous curve of her. She remembers his absence seventeen years ago too distinctly. She pretends not to adore the wonder in his eyes. 

The rhythmic puff of a shitty tailpipe rouses them. They know that car. He helps her off the couch in a daze of frantic limbs as they hurry to the door because he’s here, in all of his snarky, ratty adolescent glory. He looks good. He looks genuinely happy, for the first time since they met him. He looks stronger than last they saw.

“Will,” Mulder calls across the driveway because he can’t help himself. Will waves at him with a crooked smile, ambling up to the door. He has a backpack with him, and a box of what appear to be butter croissants. 

“Hi Mulder,” he says as he’s engulfed in a hug. “Hi Dana.” His gaze flicks to her stomach; hi eyebrows shoot up, and does he realize how long he’s been gone? 

She smiles at him. For a brief moment she’s worried she should have more to say, but Will has been a more constant presence in her life than in Mulder’s simply because he can slip in and out of her mind as he pleases. Right now, she’s said enough.

“I need to put these on the table,” he says, holding up the croissants. “They’re to share.”

They sit around the cramped kitchen table. They bustle awkwardly, preparing sandwiches and opening windows to let the evening sunlight in. With it comes a summer warmth, a red glow on the windowsill. “Why don’t we go outside?” Will suggests. Every time he opens his mouth, Scully expects him to tell her how long he’s staying. Or, she expects an apologetic air, to be able to read the conflict in him and know he will leave in a day or two. She hasn’t felt it yet.

Scully nods and moves to get up from the table. Slowly, with a conscious effort she resents. She sways as she stands, her balance off-kilter. It’s been so long since she’s looked like this. It shocks her how unprepared she is for the shift in her center of gravity. These days it feels like her skin his made of leather, her bones of cold ceramic, and before she can reassure her near-grown son, say, “oh this is normal, you know,” Will’s hand shoots out to steady her.

The heartache flares. It should be the other way around. It should be the other way around. She should have been there to hold him up as he tottered. “Dana?” he asks, and his voice is laced with unanswerable questions.

“I’m fine,” she says. “I’m just not used to this yet.” She smooths her hand over her belly, her palm jumping as the baby’s foot protrudes out one side. She feels Will’s dark eyes on her, suddenly so much younger than the rest of him. Perhaps he thinks of his own birth. She certainly does. She thinks of how Mulder put his hand right there when he kicked, and how painfully long ago it all was.

“Remember,” she tells him, “we can’t be young forever.”

Will looks at the otherworldly shape of its foot, pushing on her like a drumskin. He looks at the sharp lines of her cheekbones undercut by the quiet, tranquil determination in her eyes when she touches the errant limb. He looks at Mulder looking at her, with unadulterated wonder. It slips out of his mouth, clearly unexpected. “Can I feel?” 

Scully is misty-eyed—some combination of hormones and her body awash with history—when she nods. She sways again; it’s all so overwhelming, and Mulder moves behind her, his hand on the small of her back. She takes Will’s callused hand, her eyebrows raised at him to make sure it’s okay, and places it on the hard mound of her belly. 

He grins. “I can feel it move.” A laugh escapes him. She guides him to where the foot pushes out lopsided. He taps it, and it taps back. She flashes back again to Mulder, in the hospital, his palm flat on the skin that enclosed the amoebic creature to become Will.

William is a boy tailed by Death; it clings to his skin like spiderwebs, haunts him wherever he flees to. She hopes Will finds peace here, feeling his sibling move inside her. It is unspeakably weird, all of it, to have the baby she mourned for decades turn up grown before her eyes. In a way, she’d always pictured him outside of time. But neither does he last forever, so here she stands with stubbled spook-writer Mulder, her adult son holding her steady and clinging with one finger to her unborn child. 

She wishes they could hand Will the sun, but all they can hand him is home, whatever that may be.

[starcrossedmyth-lovers-blog]

Young and Beautiful Chapter 4 - The Emperor

Type: Alternative History (AU)

Background: Ancient Egypt

CP: Zyglavis × Reader × Scorpio; Krioff × Reader 

Warning: Mature (3some, rough)

Tonight you were completely at the mercy of Scorpio and Zyglavis. When Scorpio thrust inside you he clenched jaw and groaned. “The hell!” He gritted his teeth, “Seems that moron hadn’t fucked you well.” 

You moaned as loud as you could. Your husband would never be so rough, or more accurately, he couldn’t - since he’d been drained by endless wine and harem. Then you felt Zyglavis’ large hands holding your chin, guiding you to open your mouth, taking his shaft slowly and deeply until you reached the end. You choked at first, couldn’t adapt yourself to his size. After a while, you finally learned to adjust breathing. You prayed to Hathor, hoping to the get redemption from the intense pleasure engendered by them. It aroused you last night with Krioff and swept you along with a gigantic force. In the irresistible thrill of sexual awakening, you lost yourself in the flame of a new convert. 

You gave up counting how many positions they changed or how many times you reached climax. In the end, you felt exhausted, even desperate for sleep. 

You laid sweetly asleep and didn’t wake up until the morning light crept into every corner of the chamber, dissolving every trace of the moon’s glow. A cool breeze brushed your naked body. The linen sheet beneath you was dry and clean. It must be changed by either of them before rested you on it. 

You looked around with eyes fogged by sleep. Zyglavis was nowhere to be seen, and Scorpio was sleeping soundly at your side, hogging the only blanket.

“Oh, you!”  

For one moment, you really thought about smacking a feather pillow onto him. But you didn’t. You glared silently at his sleeping face: Long eyelashes. A perfect nose. Soft lips. Everything about him just caught you off guard. He seemed so peaceful and kind of cute, completely different from the grumpy guy before. You ended up with getting off the bed and walking stealthily to the bathroom, carefully not to wake him up. 

You brushed with mint, dried iris, pepper and salt, then washed your face and body with chrysanthemum water. They’d cleaned you up last night, but you really wanted to soak in the hot tub. However, you ran out of hot water since no servant could come inside. 

I’ll take a bath later, maybe after breakfast, you sighed.

Returned to the bedroom you dressed in a robe①. You picked up the torn sheath and threw it into an empty basket. It was the second dress damaged by impatient beasts. You had countless of expensive dresses, but all of them were identical potential victims. 

“Your Highness, are you awake? May I come in?“ Helena’s voice came from behind your chamber door.

You replied at once. "Not yet. Later.” This soon wakened Scorpio. He rolled over to scold you, “Damn it, woman! Dare you say another word……”

“Helena! Ask Dui to come over! I’d like to have breakfast with him.” 

You ignored him on purpose and immediately raised your voice. Scorpio was not a morning person. As expected, he hissed when you conqueringly cut him off and walked to sit on the edge of the bed. You squinted, placed your arm on his shoulder, fingers caressed his muscles. 

“Oh, my bad," You smirked at him, "I forgot scorpions are nocturnal animals. It’s too bright here. Maybe you prefer somewhere dark and quiet, like the little rat cage you’ve slept before?”

Scorpio threw away the blanket and jumped out of bed. “Say that shit again I dare you!” He threatened. The interior doors slid open almost simultaneously when he grabbed your face and squeezed your cheeks. Dui, Krioff, and Zyglavis made their appearance at the door with bowls and jars.

“Fisticuffs for an entire night and another morning. How impressive.” Krioff chuckled, making fun of Scorpio without hesitation when he saw him kiltless standing in the middle of the room.

“Pfft!” Zyglavis smirked, “Scorpions are fierce. They really know how to sting.” Dui burst out laughing and didn’t want to stop.

“The hell are you assholes saying!?” Scorpio blushed like a beetroot. Hastily, he picked up his kilt on the ground and ran into the bathroom. He seemed so embarrassed by the way the others were teasing him. 

You were laughing and giggling till they placed bowls of food and jars of wine on the table. Zyglavis and Krioff carried four armed chairs, set them near the table. Dui poured some honeyed wine into the silver cup. You walked forward to take your seat near him when your sandals stepped on a strip of cloth. It was scarlet red with several diagonal black stripes, edges embroidered with gold. You didn’t think it would come from your torn sheath.

“Scorpio’s hairband.” 

Krioff said as he watched you looking at it over and over. You soon realized it -The trio had the same style of hairbands but different colors. Krioff wore a sienna and navy one while Zyglavis had turquoise and black②. 

Just when you were about to put it somewhere you heard footsteps coming from the bathroom. Without thinking, you tied a knot and threw it hard into the basket near your bed.

When Scorpio came and sit you already started eating. Although the feasts would last from sunset to sunrise, you ordered the kitchen to prepare a full breakfast. Tasters were required as well, but they were not allowed to enter either Pharaoh’s or Queen’s room. Even so, you still didn’t let Dui touch any food or drink unless Helena or you tried them first. 

Watching you sipped a little bit and gave the cup into Dui’s hand, both Zyglavis and Scorpio averted their gaze. Krioff continued eating without batting an eyelid. He was used to it. When you fed Dui some fresh grapes, Scorpio flushed a brilliant scarlet and clicked his tongue exaggeratedly.

“What?” You were focused on peeling another grape, didn’t even bother to look up.

“Gross. This room is defiled by filthy humans!" 

You made a sharp retort with a sly smile. "We generous Goddess and God sometimes allow humans to sit down and eat at the same table③. So don’t be embarrassed by your low status as a commoner, OK? O General Scorpio." 

It was no wonder a hearty but noisy breakfast. Scorpio was so pissed off that Zyglavis and Krioff barely calmed him down. Dui also tried hard to pacify him. Thank Hathor the breakfast continued, although a moody Scorpio kept robbing food from your hand to vent his anger. 

You talked about schedules for the following days. There was still no pleas or news from Mitanni. Zyglavis suggested that Scorpio should return to the military camps with him as soon as possible. "We must test these soldiers to evaluate their fighting force.” He said with a little frown. Apparently, he doubted if they were well trained when they both were absent. 

“Tch. Like I have other choices.” Scorpio clicked his tongue again, expressing his dissatisfaction.

You flashed Zyglavis a sweet smile, “Will you come to the feasts tonight?" 

"I’m afraid not.” He replied quickly, “Please excuse us for our absence. We must make new schedules. There’s no time to waste.”

“How about tomorrow? You will come, right?” Dui asked. When the sun rose again you would meet the ambassadors from Nubia, Assyria, Mitanni, Babylon and other allies in the Audience Chamber, accepted their gifts as congratulations and loyalty to you from their kings. A former feast would be held in the Great Hall as well. As high-ranking Generals, they were supposed to attend.

“We shall be back before sunrise,” Zyglavis promised.

“Dui, we have plenty of time today. Do you want to visit the army with me?" You suggested excitedly on a whim, "Let’s bring some beer and bread there. It’ll be fun.”

Scorpio growled before Dui could answer. "You must be frickin kidding me! The hell were you thinking, huh?“

"Not a bad idea,” Krioff interrupted, “As long as we have enough food and drinks in the kitchen.”

Zyglavis put down a bowl of wine. He shot you a sharp look, “And why is that?”

You tried to persuade him. It all started on a whim, but to visit the army was more meaningful than to spend a lazy afternoon in the palace while the royal family was around, especially to Dui. The soldiers had three days off. Your visit wouldn’t influence their daily training. There was one thing you didn’t mention - You thought this would be a good chance to win the soldiers’ hearts - by a single visit you could make them realize they were not only people’s army but also yours.

Your husband had been afraid of the army. You weren’t. You were the goddess who controlled them. 

Zyglavis nodded after a short moment of silence. He wouldn’t disagree since you were thinking of Dui. It was quickly settled and he stood up to leave. Scorpio followed him, then abruptly stopped.

“Wait. Where’s my hairband?” He started looking around for his disappeared item. 

“Someone stepped on it.” Zyglavis turned to looked at you and smirked.

“Someone threw it away.” Krioff cocked his head to the side.

“Um, I didn’t see anything.” Dui couldn’t help looking at you. His voice shook slightly with the strain of not laughing.

Scorpio glared at you. He stepped forward, a hand slowly around your neck. He lowered his eyes to meet yours, feeling your speeding heartbeat in every pulse under his palm. “Where did you hide it, filthy woman?" 

You intentionally imitated him to speak, blinking your eyes like an innocent lamb. "Like the hell if I know." 

Scorpio grinned and moved his thumb moved to rub your lips. "Fine, so do not be surprised if later I do somethin that I’ll regret." His voice was extremely tender and soft, which was quite unusual. You froze but enjoyed his warning as well as the warmth of his palm against your skin.

After they left, Krioff went to the kitchen to get some bread and beer ready for your visit. Servants floated in and out of the chamber under the arrangements of Helena. They scurried like miws④, cleaning up the room, changing the linen sheets, moving your closets and cosmetic boxes from Queen’s Chamber and heating the stoves to fill up the bathtub with hot water. You led Dui into the secret Chamber, which would not be disturbed by the busy servants.

You sat down and indicated him to take a seat. "The Ambassadors are coming for my coronation, and I’ll formally introduce you as my consort⑤. I never ask before, but...how many foreign languages can you speak?”   

“I speak Nubian and a little Hurrian⑥, and that’s it.” Dui cocked his head, playing coy, “Not a marvelous Pharaoh who can speak seven languages.”

“Dui, you’re cunning!” You pouted, then laughed together, “Flattering cannot change the fact that you had a terrible tutor.”

He smiled while shaking his head. “__, you excel at languages, but I don’t. Not every person is born to be gifted.”

“There’s no way to say you are not good at languages since you write such beautiful poetry,” You pointed out, “You should have my tutor, and I don’t believe they can overwhelm you - Compare with writing poetry, languages are only tools.”

Dui asked curiously, "Who’s your tutor? You seldom mentioned him. Is he that good?“

"He’s the wisest man I’ve ever met.” You said with a bitter smile. 

After married you never mentioned about your past. There was someone who quietly appeared in your life, accompanied you with a happy time, and then left silently. He was not far away, but you’d been divided for more than eight years. 

“__? __? ” Dui shook you from wandering. He frowned a bit, then smiled wily. “Now I know your little secret!” He narrowed his eyes and grinned, “He’s your old flame, isn’t he?”

“I’m telling you nothing.” You tickled him into a burst of laughter. “__! I’m wrong! I don’t dare any further!” He nearly laughed himself to death. You pinched his face hard, didn’t let go until he begged. 

“Your Majesty,” Helena suddenly appeared in your doorway, smirking, “I’ve been busy like a honey bee, but you’re hiding here, savoring the delights." 

"Well, perfect timing to save your sweetheart.” You poked fun at her. 

Helena asked which crown you would wear so she could choose a gown for you. But you put fingers to your lips and shook your head. “I’m not wearing any crown today. I’ll wear a wig, the one that cost the most." 

"Plenty of work then. I’m not able to serve Your Highness bath." 

She rolled her eyes, walked back to take out the longest wig which was scented with jasmine and frankincense. It would spend her a long time to bead every braid of it. Dui volunteered happily to help select jewelry beads. You knew for him it was much more fun than preparing conversations in Hurrian or Sumerian⑦. Smiling, you shut the door softly and walked directly to the bathroom.

Everything in your chamber was clean and neat, and the bathtub was filled with hot water. When the steam cleared from your vision you dipped your hand into the water - too hot - you sighed quietly. 

You strolled in the room, examined everything in your precious ebony and ivory veneered cosmetic box: a polished silver mirror, gold-handled copper razors, a small silver dish, several alabaster jars and four obsidian jars decorated in gold. You closed the lid and stood up, opened every closet in the chamber and tried to find out which gown you should wear to the visit. You loved the open front but thanked the hickeys you could wear none of them. The long wig would hide your beautiful back if the halter was selected. 

Which color should I choose? An ornate and lavish one, or something that simple but elegant? You struggled with it, finally complained to yourself since no decision could be made. 

"I can’t find one to wear.” You grumbled.

“Then don’t wear anything." 

Someone suddenly emerged from behind. His muscular arms were wrapped around your stomach. A quiver of surprise ran through you. When you realized it was Krioff you relaxed, leaning on his chest. "Hey! You scared me.”

“You were loud last night, and you kept flirting with Scorpio all the morning,” He nuzzled his head against your neck, bit and sucked your skin, “I’m not glad." 

You giggled, tossing your neck back. "I wasn’t flirting. And you couldn’t possibly hear me. There are two doors!”

“I just heard it.” He pushed you up against the door of a closet, kissing your neck and back like crazy, “You were loud enough to disturb my sleep. Should give ya a good punishment.”

“It’s not my fault!” You protested. Krioff didn’t listen. He lifted your robe and you felt his erection, big and hard. You knew what was waiting for you. Then you thought of Dui and Helena. They might come in at any time.

“Krioff, please! They’ll see us!” You begged.

A large hand covered your mouth and his deep voice whispered in your ears, “Be a good girl and shut up.”

He made love to you from behind. It was so wonderful that you felt as if you were just going to melt in his arms away. After you both came, he kissed you sweetly. Your legs wobbled beneath you and you staggered. He scrambled to catch you, then scooped you up. You heard him asked with concern, “What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”

Shaking your head, you closed your eyes. “Nope. It was great,” You smiled feebly, “I’m just so tired. Carry me to the tub and bathe me, will you?" 

"Sure.” He walked into the bathroom, tested the temperature and carefully put you in the bath. 

“Satisfied?” He chuckled when he heard you moan.

“Totally,” you murmured, “Last night they didn’t let me sleep, and you worn me out in the morning. I’ve never got tired like this much. But it felt so good. Just great.”

He laughed triumphantly and stepped into the bath to join you. Water started to overflow since it was only enough for one person. You just let him. You loved the feeling when his skin was against yours. He fetched a soap, rubbed it over your body, and gently massaged every teebe⑧ of your skin. You stretched your back, yawning.

“You’re exhausted. We can go another day. No need to push yourself.” He said.

“No,” You suddenly opened your eyes, “I can’t wait that long.” Your black eyes met his and you immediately sat up. “Krioff, we must visit the army today - You and Dui and me. Every wnwt after I anointed Dui I feel unease. My family and the priests must be extremely dissatisfied. I’m worried they are planning something. The longer Dui stays in the palace, the more dangerous it’ll be.”

He put his hands on your shoulders to calm you. “You both are safe. Their dirty tricks will never get Dui as long as I’m here. You can count on me.”

“I trust you.” You sighed. Even you got his promise you couldn’t let your guard down. You knew it was impossible for them to tolerate the existence of Dui. You knew them better than anyone else did.

After you got out of the tub he carried you to the bed. “Take a nap,” he patted you on the head, “I’m gonna see what Dui is up to.”

“Krioff.” You gripped his hand, nuzzling your face to his palm.

He smiled at your coquetry, "What, my beauty?“

"You can’t let them come all at once. They’ll break me!”

“Oh, that.” He grinned, the other hand fondly caressed your neck. “Poor thing. I’ll let you off the hook tonight.”

News had spread around the military camp before you left the palace that the reincarnation of Isis would come to visit them. You wore a white pleated sheath made of fine linen and the matching cobra with Dui’s around your brow. Helena had beaded every strand of your wig with gold and lapis lazuli. When they came together as you walk, they played soft music.

Your appearance roused the army to fever pitch. To them, you were the goddess, by one touch of your dress they could live for eternity. But now there before them all stood you, handing them a bowl of beer or a bread. They kissed the dust near your feet. It was your first time getting so close to the soldiers. Some of them were very young, and their skin was dark because of their practice every day. You felt guilty about your previous thoughts. These men risked their lives for Egypt, defending the borders and fighting against the enemies while the priests and nobles were enjoying their lavish lives under peacock sunshades. 

Although you were raised up in a distinguished family and your mother was a foreign princess of royal blood, you would no longer allow yourself to consider these soldiers as tools, like most of the nobles did. You turned to look at your generals, couldn’t help smiling with complex feelings. Visiting the army is the best decision I made today.

The sunshine cast golden shades on your face, your peerless beauty, and brilliant smile moved them to call you the Shining Isis. Since Dui made a pair with you, they called him the Sunlight Horus. Both of you had a good time there. Beers had been flowing all the afternoon and you called for music from the court. The men stared excitedly at the group of enchanting dancers, but their eyes also lingered on you. At dusk, a herald from the palace arrived and he was brought to you by Zyglavis.

“Your Majesty,” He bowed politely, “Lady Helena is waiting for you. ”

It’s time to go back, to the place with political intrigues and maneuverings. A place where I belong. You signed deeply. The edges of your dress were fluttering in the night breeze. 

“__, shall we go back? The feast is about to begin.” Dui asked, his eyes seemed to shine in the purplish twilight.

“We’re not going to the feasts tonight.” Your smile widened.

You could imagine how the priests and your family felt when you chose not to attend the feasts.  Helena rubbed the soles of your feet with some oil pressed from the fruit of balanites aegyptiaca. You frowned a little at the swelling pain of your feet.

“Your Highness, antagonizing too many people is dangerous, even if you want to protect Dui,” She was worried about your attitude toward the royal family and the priests, "They are strong and powerful. What if they go against you altogether?”

“A rebellion? They dare not,” You said dismissively, “Too risky, and little benefits. For pretenders to my throne, the easiest, and probably the only way to achieve their ambition, is to kill Dui and marry me.”

She inhaled, the color drained from her face, “That is horrible! And…..what if someone does?”

“I trust in Krioff. He’ll protect us,” You pressed your lips, “I can depend on Zyglavis and Scorpio as well.”

“I didn’t mean to offend, but,” She frowned deeply, “Your Highness, have you ever thought there might be a chance that one of them will force you to marry him?”

“It’s possible,” You admitted, narrowed your eyes, “But better than to be forced by a wilted old man. Much, much better." She collapsed laughing at your wry humor.

You fell asleep the moment your head touched the feather pillow. In your deep sleep, you felt someone was wiping your lips, and suddenly there was a sharp pain in your cheeks. "Ah! It hurts!” You moaned in your dreams.

“Finally awake, filthy woman?”

You opened your eyes, only to find an exasperated Scorpio was on top of you. “Wh-Wh-What are you doing here?” You stuttered, heart pounding like crazy that you thought it would explode.

“You can’t run away from me,” He snorted with an evil grin, “It is high time I squared up with you.“

Reference

① In ancient Egypt, a lot of women adopted a robe which could be draped in various ways. Two rectangular pieces of cloth, each about four feet by five feet and sewn together along the narrow end, leaving a space for the neck. 

② In SCM, the icon colors of Krioff, Scorpio and Zyglavis were orange, red and black, respectively. But colors did have different meanings in ancient Egypt: Green was the color of new life and vegetation, and it was related to Osiris; Red was the color of life and of victory, which related to Seth; Yellow (sienna) was the color of sun and gold, so it was considered as color of eternal and indestructible; Blue (navy, turquoise and etc.) was symbolic of the sky and water; Black meant death and of the night. 

③ Pharaoh was the first level of the social pyramid. The second level included viziers, Amun’s High Priests (sometimes he could also be the vizier), chief treasurers and army generals. However, Pharaoh was a demi-god living, amongst mortals in ancient Egypt. At the moment of coronation, Pharaoh acquired divinity and death would transform him/her into a full god. 

④ Means ‘cat’ in ancient Egyptian. 

⑤ Pharaoh’s consort could be his/her spouse (e.g. Chief Wife) or his/her child (e.g. A son or a daughter).  It was more or less like a ‘co-regent’.

⑥ The official language of Mitanni.

⑦ The official language of Assyria.

⑧ Unit of length, about 1.875 cm.

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