#i will probably change the household name and tag to Mills after all

[sometownie]

From a big industrial home to a small and cozy home with a garden and attic bedrooms. The porch in this picture has been my inspiration.

So, the main idea is to move the big family that has been in an industrial setting for all their lives, into a small cottage like house, which is barely big enough for them all. Jenny Mills is a florist, so she has been the inspiration for this house - I want her to have a beautiful garden to look after.

It remains to be seen who will continue living with Jenny in this house. Will Milo and his children move out and start a life of their own? And how about Ruby and her dog Pirate? Stay tuned!

[marveldc-imagines-hub]

Subtitles: Episode 3, Now in Color

Subtitles Masterlist

Summary: Things are going well between [Y/N] and their new partners but what shenanigans will ensue as the Maximoff baby’s arrival quickly approaches and they’re pulled into the throughs of building a nursery and… child delivery?

Word count: 10,640

Warnings: Cotton candy fluff, chaos, baby. So the usual, plus babies.

Tag list: @madamevirgo​ @ravennight41​ @multifandomgirl16 (It won’t tage you for some reason, I’m sorry ;-; ) @cyanide-mustard​ @badasspolygenderfriend​

~~~

    You huffed and sat back on your heels, slipping a sore finger into your mouth. “Stupid bird.”

    The bird in question, a pink flamingo made of plastic and wire, seemed to sneer at you from its position sticking a few inches farther out of the grass than it should be. Because of this, you could still see the main stake sticking out of the bottom of the bird’s standing foot, which, much to your distaste, made the pink plastic-feathered creature look like it was trapped on a piece of wood impaled in its foot rather than lounging on one foot in the lush green grass of your yard. 

    You had spent a good portion of today working on your yard and garden and waiting for a member of the household across the street to step outside and beckon you over. Dressed in overalls stained by grass and dirt, a brightly colored T-shirt, a sun hat, and working shoes, you forced yourself to keep busy by planting new flora and putting down new garden fences and decor while Vision and Wanda were tucked away indoors, preparing for a baby. You were the only one so far to know about the Maximoff bun in the oven outside of the parents and although it seemed like just last week that Wanda had gotten pregnant, the baby had finally big enough that the couple had to involve a doctor to make sure all was going well.

    It also felt like not long ago that the couple had asked you out for the first time. Both of them. At the same time. It was news to you that they had felt even remotely felt the same way about you as you had about them but the rest of that conversation had gone swimmingly with you being too nervous and dumbstruck to do much more than blubber questions. The first date and then the second went a similar way, with you not being completely sure that you were on a three-person date or even awake. Luckily, your new partners were just as unnerved as you were and the three of you agreed to simply play it by ear and communicate a lot. 

Some time and a few sporadic dates later and things were going smoothly. Almost every bit of free time was spent at either their place or yours; if it wasn’t free time, you were giving Vision rides to work and leaving cute messages in the files you left at his desk—you always hoped they were cute, anyway, and not annoying, only to be reassured when you got a smiley back or your favorite treat from the breakroom left with the file when it was returned—or trying to help Wanda clean or cook or take a break despite her stubborn fussing against it. Vision was the first to give you a pet name, Wanda was the first to hold you in place when you attempted to pull away from a normally quick handhold or hug, and you were the first to press kisses to both their cheeks after walking them home from dinner. Wanda fell asleep on your couch first, you on theirs second, and Vision went ahead and turned cheek pecks into lip kisses. You weren’t quite ready to initiate them yourself yet but you hadn’t been complaining when Vision caught you on your porch steps and kissed you on the mouth; the rain that had just started had either been just a bonus or his initial inspiration.

    As nice as everything has been, though, you were still worried about overstepping boundaries with the married couple so when Vision invited you over to be a part of the doctor visit, you politely declined. Instead, after the doctor left, you were to head over and bring your tools to help set up the nursery; it was also your joint job with Vision, who was now a baby book reading master but also increasingly bugged out about Wanda and the baby’s health, to try and convince said woman to relax for once in her life—a task difficult enough to be on the list of Hercules’ Twelve Labors, you were convinced at this point.

    For now, though, you were sitting with your feet beginning to cramp and your knees getting damp and most likely more grass-stained, glaring at the devil in pink whose foot-stake had left your finger with a prick from a splinter and whose one visible dark eye stared at you with sadistic mirth.

    “Oh, you wanna go, Bernard?” you scoffed at the bird-shaped plastic, dropping your hand from your mouth and pushing yourself up into a squat. “I’ll call you out. Let’s go!” You raised your hands in a fighting stance and bounced on the balls of your feet as you prepared to strike.

    The sound of a chainsaw starting up caught you off guard mid-bounce and you lost your balance but what caught your eye when you twisted around while rubbing your now-bruised tailbone was Vision walking outside his front door with an older gentleman, presumably the doctor. However, you paid very little attention to said other man as you laid in the middle of your yard, twisted into what was probably a partial yoga pose, resting your chin on your arm and making lovey-dovey eyes at the former.

    Not that it was surprising at all, Vision looked very nice today. He was wearing dark blue pants and a similarly colored sweater over a collared shirt and tie, with a honey-brown jacket topping everything off; you couldn’t imagine wearing a shirt plus two outerwear items in the heat of the day but you certainly didn’t mind seeing him all dressed up. His hair was somewhere between jaw and shoulder length and wavy as ever and while you weren’t a fan of the popular 70s cut, he not only pulled it off but made it look incredibly attractive. He greeted his next-door neighbor Herb, who started up the chainsaw, then spoke animatedly, as he always did, to the doctor. Talking about keeping the baby news to themselves, no doubt.

    Vision watched as the doctor walked off down the sidewalk and as he happened to pass in your direction, Vision’s gaze refocused to settle on you instead. The expression on his face changed from purely friendly to something deeper and you felt the familiar flutter of butterflies in your stomach as he waved over to you.

    “Hello, perfectly platonic neighbor!” he hollered, to which you responded in kind after snorting and then disentangling yourself from your strange position.

    No response from Herb about the odd greeting. The cul-de-sac, and in Westview in general, people didn’t seem concerned with your trio’s out-of-place shenanigans as long as it didn’t directly affect them, you had noticed over time. You could have probably walked over and planted a brazen smooch on Vision’s perfect mouth while out in the open, with other neighbors milling about, and no one would bat an eye.

    But that’s exactly what we’re not going to do, you thought stubbornly as you stood and brushed yourself off. Not yet, anyway. I want to make sure they’re both comfortable with it first. 

    Vision seemed to grasp what your plan was because he waited for you as you gave Bernard the flamingo a fight postpone notice and then a light kick before walking across your yard and heading across the street. If you had been more rational, you would have grabbed your tools so you could have just come inside when you reached the Maximoff house but your brain, muddled with the pink mist of freshly requited affections, could only think of getting closer to the man, maybe even holding hands or nuzzling noses. 

    A sound that was equal parts loud and awful caught both your and Vision’s attention as you reached the sidewalk on the other side of the street. Looking over, you both saw Herb cutting away with his chainsaw, only now he wasn’t cutting through bushes but the stone wall separating his and Wanda and Vision’s homes. The stone blocks of the wall weren’t super heavy-duty, you supposed, but the sound made you cringe, and the sight was a little jarring. Herb didn’t seem to realize was he was doing despite the lack of hedges in his path.

    “Hey Herb,” Vision yelled over the noise, “think you might’ve taken the hedge trimming a little too far there, old chum!” As he spoke, he glanced over at you and, seeing you nearby, instinctively shifted in your direction; you moved to meet him halfway and you each gave the other’s hand a quick affectionate squeeze, though both pairs of eyes were trained on Herb.

    Herb, who looked up, smiled, and responded, “So I have! Thanks, buddy.” Despite saying this, he continued to cut through the bordering wall and stare glassily ahead as if none the wiser. 

    The expression gave you an unnerving sense of familiarity but you couldn’t quite put a name to the vague memory of a person you’d seen wearing it. Acquiring a migraine medication and forcing yourself to not look too hard into every strange thing that happened in this town helped but your headaches appeared to never quite go away. This was proven by the muted throb across one side of your head that came with looking at the bizarre scene.

    “Yeah,” Vision said a little quieter, “don’t mention it.”

    The action only happened briefly but when you caught him chewing his lower lip, you felt your innards tie themselves in knots and had a particularly hard time tearing your gaze away. Now that you were closer, you also noticed that the blue and brown ensemble he wore perfectly matched his hair and eyes. That hair that you always desperately wanted to brush your fingers through.

Fingers carefully slipping around your hand, like if they held you any tighter your own would break, managed to catch your attention as Vision turned to lead you inside.

    “Oh,” you chirped, tugging your hand back to point a thumb over your shoulder, “I forgot my tools. Meet you in a minute?”

    Vision seemed persistent to bring you inside, even going so far as to catch both your arms and doing a playful series of shimmies and sways to dance the two of you closer to the front door. Now that you were out of Herb’s frozen line of sight, the two of your found yourselves standing so close together that there wasn’t a single pocket of space between your bodies. When you inhaled, you smell cologne that wasn’t too light or too heavy and a scent that you could only describe as the heat of a warm, sunny day. Thinking as he would only smell sweat and dirt and grass if he did the same, you blushed and made a note to change before you came back over.

    Whatever Vision thought about how you smelled or the clothes you wore, he didn’t seem to care enough, if at all. He took advantage of being out of sight to move his hands from your hours to your waist—a much more convincing position indeed—and nuzzled his nose to your hairline, now exposed as your hat rested farther back on your head.

    “You know very well that you can use ours,” he said.

    You felt his warm breath on your forehead. If you weren’t standing up and didn’t have the nagging feeling that you were getting dirt on his nice sweater, you would have been perfectly comfortable simply hugging him and dozing off in the cozy embrace right there.

    Vision continued in a lilting voice and with an added shimmy that brought the two of you directly to the front door. “They’d love to see you, you know.”

    They? Your brows furrowed a bit, then rolled your eyes. Oh, Wanda plus baby.

    Still, you steeled your resolve and leaned away from him. He looked at you like he was a puppy that had been kicked, to which you responded with a faux scowl. “Mr. Vision Maximoff, I said I was going bring my tools, and [Y/N] is no flake. Besides,” you paused as your scowl melted into a smile, “I don’t want to get dirt and grime all over the new room. It’ll only take a minute; you act like we can’t see each other through our living room windows if we wanted to.”

    Making his last attempt, Vision leaned into your arms, which were now around his own, and pressed his cheek against your temple. Still pouting, he muttered, “It only took Wanda and I going around a few times before we moved in together.”

    The idea of you living under the same roof as your couple and their new baby made you giddy as much as it made you feel like you wanted to throw yourself into a lit fire pit to save yourself from embarrassment. 

    “Ah, yes, a spectacle to behold,” you said as you leaned away again, “A new baby and a new roommate!” You saw Vision open his mouth to speak, no doubt to respond with a quip, and quickly continued, disentangling yourself from him as you did, “Gotta skitty, I’ll be back momentarily!”

    “Well,” Vision replied, dragging out the last consonant as if you were going to change your mind if he did so long enough; when you didn’t, he huffed a bit. “Alright then. Hurry back!”

    You gave him a smile and two-fingered salute then bounded down the steps and back across the street. You only stopped once on the quick trip back home and that was to give Bernard another swift kick, which somehow lodged the bird the rest of the way into the ground, and a “Fuck you, Bernard!” You heard sputtering laughter from across the street that made you grin as you marched inside to change and grab your toolkit. 

    The tools were the easy part; they had been sitting out on the table in your dining area since last night when you’d originally suggested the idea so you were sure to not forget them. It took a bit longer to struggle your way out of your clothes, especially while simultaneously trotting to the bathroom to wash your hands and splash water on your face. It took longer still to jog back to your bedroom without slamming yourself into an end table or plant along the way and then also go through every piece of clothes you owned; when bright colors and eccentric outfits came into style, you were, for once, ahead of the fashion game with your regular closet, and your wardrobe only continued to grow as the rest of the country’s interest in the style did. You were particularly interested in peacock fashion and it showed in your array of ruffled, brightly colored, and loudly patterned shirts and blouses. 

Of these blouses, you threw on one in a burnt orange and yellow paisley pattern, choosing one without ruffles in fear of ripping them while working. You paired the shirt with matching yellow walk-shorts that ended just above your knees and a pair of honey-brown clog sandals whose color made you think of Vision’s outfit. Thinking about this further, you decided to accent your ensemble with a touch of blue, wrapping your hair that was still damp with sweat back with a satin scarf that was a vibrant blue and some handmade jewelry pieces in the same color to match. Finally, you added a woven belt and, after looking in the mirror for a moment, decided to tie your blouse off an inch above the waist of your shorts instead of tucking it in before booking it back across the street.

    Standing at the door of your couple’s house, you took a final glance at yourself in the reflection of one of their windows before knocking. You let yourself in after Wanda invited you with a holler through the door and you were greeted with the interesting sight of Wanda, in all her stunning, colorful, mother-to-be glory standing by the long dark-wood dining table; Vision, half-hidden behind her belly that seemed significantly larger than the last time you saw her, was taking an awkward knee while holding up a variety of fruits.

    “I’m never not uniquely surprised when I walk into this house,” you said mostly to yourself and you made your way over. Reaching Wanda, you sat your bag of tools on the floor by her feet and gave her a gentle hug. “Hey, sunshine, you’re looking foxy.”

    You certainly had gotten a lot more comfortable with them recently. 

    Wanda visibly blushed, giving you one of her signature fake irritated looks—a tilted head with tight-knit brows and tight lips that broke into a smile less than a second later—and lightly swatted your arm before carefully returning the hug. “Hey sunshine yourself. Look at you, you’re glowing! And those threads, you’re a regular Casanova.”

    She made a point of eyeing your partially exposed midriff and you almost blushed—but not quite.

    “Glowing,” you repeated, playfully patting your face, “I’m not even the pregnant one! Thank you, though. Some of the colors were inspired.” You took your turn eyeing her, particularly the bright red of her striped dress that was a common color in her palette, then you caught Vision’s bright blue gaze as he stood and placed a couple of fruits back in their rightful place in the basket on the table. You moved to Wanda’s other side to help him. “Why the fruit?”

    “Oh, well, the doctor said it helps the mothers keep track of the baby’s progress.” Vision explained. He added another fruit to the basket’s tower, although he was giving the last one in his hand an odd look.

    “What he actually said was,” Wanda added, grasping your shoulder and tugging you over two put an arm around your waist and give you mildly strained look, “it helps make things ‘simple’ for us ‘little ladies.’”

    You recognized the glint in her eye and nodded understandingly. “Well that’s mildly condescending, must’ve been just groovy.”

    “Out of sight,” Wanda agreed in the same tone. She then looked in Vision’s direction with raised brows; you followed her gaze and saw the man toying with the large green fruit in his hand. “Hey, honey? What’cha doin’?”

    Vision met both of your equally puzzled gazes with barely contained glee. Voice tight from holding back a giggle, he raised the fruit and pointed at it. “I can’t wait… to be… a proud… papa-ya.”

    Wanda looked amused at the future father’s pun and Vision grinned, clearly happy with the reaction. You actually laughed before quickly throwing up a hand to cover the titter.

    “Well, that just proves it,” you said after composing yourself even though your company seemed perfectly pleased with your reaction to the joke, “you’re going to be a wonderful one. Look at you, turning into a proper one already.”

    Vision went from smiling to flusteredly chewing at his lip quite quickly; he would always get easily flustered but never enough to blush. Instead, he’d twist his head a certain way and rub his neck and shoulder, maybe even avoid eye contact if he was embarrassed enough. He’d always tug his bottom lip between his teeth too, something you couldn’t help finding just a touch more endearing than the other mannerisms; at least it gave you a much more rational reason to stare at his lips for longer than generally accepted.

    “You really think so?” he asked.

    You scoffed as you moved to pick up your tools again. “Of course, you and Wanda will make absolutely stellar parents. The two of you are more prepared now than I’ve seen some people after they’ve already had the kids. Now,” you paused as you stood up straight and looked at your couple with a cheerful smile, “shall we head to the nursery?”

    You were partially convinced that you had been invited solely to help Vision wrangle his wife. You certainly hadn’t been invited to help decorate; even pregnant, Wanda made faster work of your tools than you did. You were huffing while maneuvering a rocking chair in the room and by the time you got it settled in the corner, Wanda had already pieced together the changing stand that was to sit next to it. You turned to grab a tool to open the cans of paint only to turn back around and see all of them opened and Wanda with a brush in hand, painting away. You managed to get the crib up before she could get her hands on it but when you looked around for the yellow mattress and bumper cushions, you looked up to find Wanda already putting on the finishing touches.

    Now, you were kneeling on the ground by the crib and painting a delicately rendered stork while Vision was getting to his feet after reading all the reasons Wanda should be resting instead of doing what she was doing, which was pulling a mobile of colorful plastic butterflies out of a box and shifting ever so closer to a stool so she could hang it.

    “Darling,” Vision tried, shifting ever so closer to her, “you should probably sit down.”

    “You really should,” you offered your help, almost half-heartedly because you already knew the outcome before she said it.

    “Don’t be silly,” Wanda assured him, “all I feel is excitement, happiness, and— huhnf! Oh!”

    You were on your feet and spun around to give her a wide-eyed stare before her gasp even finished, but instead of pain or worry, Wanda’s face was lit up with wonder as the hand not grasping a plate fluttered around her stomach. Vision also moved quickly, to step forward and pressed his hand on her stomach.

    He breathed, “Kicking already?” and they shared an excited stare.

    You stared awkwardly from the side with a paintbrush in hand, feeling more out of place you’ve ever had in your life.

    Until Wanda, without missing a single beat, turned her head in your direction and grinned. “[Y/N], you have to feel this!” Then she spoke to Vision, “Oh, it’s such a strange sensation, it’s kinda fluttery!”

    She was breathtaking. Then her nose scrunched up and she giggled in a way that could also be described as fluttery, and you were wondering in which states polygamy was legal and where was the best jeweler to get a ring.

    Still, you were trying to refrain from overstepping boundaries.

    “Oh, I don’t know…” you mumbled, shifting your weight from foot to foot and glancing around the room. You noticed the mobile she had been retrieving the last time you’d looked at her was already hung up above the crib; of course, it was.

    Wanda scoffed and made a gesture at Vision, then he was walking over and coaxing you to her side with an encouraging nuzzle to your temple.

    “I just don’t want—” you started.

    “To overstep, we know,” Wanda finished, the giddy look on her face replaced with a scowl. “Trust me, this is probably the one and only time I’ll ask for someone to feel my stomach while everyone else in the town just does it willy-nilly and besides, you are a part of— Oh!” 

    Her gasp and glance over your shoulder, combined with the sound of movement behind you was enough to make you turn your head, only for Vision to catch your attention in the opposite direction.

    “Another kick!” he exclaimed, just a little too loud. You thought you caught his gaze flitting over in the same direction as Wanda’s but then he was grasping your wrist and placing your hand against Wanda’s stomach. At the same time, his arm that was hovering politely around your back pressed against the naked small of your back as he pulled you closer into the little triangle of space you, Wanda, and he made; the sudden heat there made your blood boil in the best way and when his hand accidentally caught on the hem of your shorts and dipped a little lower over the fabric, you choked while sucking in a breath.

    Vision’s hands flew up to the sky and he scrambled away, apologizing profusely. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see his hands fluttering around, could imagine his eyes doing the same, and you were vaguely aware of Wanda moving at your other side, the fabric of her sleeve brushing against yours as she waved her arm. You also heard a sound that you chalked up to being a breeze coming from the open window and rustling the drawn curtains. You, usually the final piece of the chaotic puzzle, were instead staring down and softly gasping as the sudden tap against your palm. 

    “I felt it,” you whispered and the chaos that was happening around you seemed to still in the same moment as Wanda and Vision settled back around you to feel themselves. You repeated the phrase, brushing your thumb across the patch of clothed skin, and the baby responded with another kick a moment later. You couldn’t help looking up at Wanda a face frozen in almost childish wonder, and state the obvious, “You’re gonna have a baby.”

    Wanda nodded at you with shining eyes and a wet smile. She wrapped her free arm around her midsection and looked back down on her belly. The expression on her face radiated an intense, loving tenderness and you felt a billion non-plastic butterflies make a comfortable home in your chest.

    You followed her gaze and felt your face break into a grin so wide that your cheeks started to hurt almost immediately. Your hand, along with Wanda’s own and Vision’s, created a loose but ever so protective triangular shield over the place where you had felt your first baby kick, promising to move the universe for them should it ever be required. Despite the overlapping mess of fingers, you noticed how Vision’s hand was the perfect size to envelop your own and that even with a ring on one of them, Wanda’s fingers fit perfectly in the spaces between yours.

    The nervousness and insecurities that seemed to bounce around your head whenever you observed your couple, in their perfect world with their perfect dynamics, melted away in the comfortable warmth that came from your trio’s cozy huddle. This wasn’t a story about you or them separately but the three of you together and it was a wonderful one in the making.

    Then, “Oh.”

    Wanda looked up at her husband and echoed, “Oh.”

    You looked up second, adding your own questioning “Oh?” before your gaze settled on the butterfly lightly perched on the tip of Vision’s nose. “Oh!” Watching the monarch’s delicate wings fluttering, you were surprised he hadn’t already sneezed. 

    “Hello, little fella,” Vision softly said. He was the first to separate your group, stepping away and leaning down a bit for your and Wanda’s better viewing. His smile was blinding for the brief moment you caught it, before tilting your head away to snicker at the way his eyes were crossing to view his insect passenger.

    Wanda gently coaxed the butterfly onto her fingertip and walked over to the window to release it. That’s when you noticed a group of the bug type coalesced around the same area; the sudden visit from Mother Nature must have been what she had seen earlier.

    “Oh, my,” you said, “that’s something you don’t see every day.”

    The smile on Wanda’s face tightened for just a moment as her gaze jumped around the baby room, then relaxed as she maneuvered the various colorful butterflies outside. “Bringing good vibes, hopefully. They must have been enticed by the mobile; why, they even tried to free their plastic friends!”

    You looked towards the crib curiously and saw that the mobile hanging above it was only a series of transparent hanging strings. Walking over, you found the butterflies that had once been attached to it scattered around the mattress. You picked a couple of them up and carefully pinched the thin material between your fingers. “Hm, strong butterflies.”

    “Clearly,” Vision agreed. He walked over to the rocking chair he had been sitting and reading baby books earlier and picked up his most recent read.

    Meanwhile, you began gathering up the scattered butterflies, then climbed up the nearby stool to retrieve the rest of the mobile. “You wouldn’t happen to have a good adhesive laying around, would you? I can have this fixed up and rehung lickity-split.”

    “Not laying around but I’m sure there’s one in the cabinet under the sink.” Vision seemed to find the page he was looking for. He glanced over the words, tensed up immediately after, and paced over to Wanda’s side as she shut the window. “If that was first kick, that puts you at about six months! Why I can’t keep up!”

    Has it been that long already? You silently wondered as you made your way over to the exit, careful not to crush any of the delicate pieces you were holding. While Vision was thinking in terms of babies, you were surprised that you had already been dating him and his wife for almost half of a year.

    In a signature dad-to-be fashion, Vision waggled his head down to give Wanda and the baby a kiss. Then he said in an equally identifiable dad’s voice, “Please don’t misinterpret. I can’t wait you meet you, little Billy!”

    You leaned against the doorframe as you offered Wanda an amused look; you had been previously graced with the conversation of baby names and Billy wasn’t exactly on her roster.

    “Billy?” she questioned, to which Vision gave a smile and an affirming noise. Wanda continued, “Well I was thinking Tommy. Just a nice, classic American name.”

    Vision gave an exaggerated, head tilting nod that suggested a mild disagreement. Then the higher-pitched tone he took when he replied confirmed it. “Hm, Tommy! Hm, mm… then there’s Billy, isn’t there? Named after William Shakespeare, all the world’s a stage, all the men and women many players!”

    Wanda went to speak but you beat her to it. “You’re sure it’s a boy, then?”

    Your partner seemed mildly embarrassed as she turned her attention to you. “Strong intuition?”

    You offered casually, not thinking about your lack of say in the matter, “What about Victor? Vin? Little Vinny’s certainly a cute nickname.” Almost immediately after you finished, it was your turn to be the embarrassed one. You stumbled over your words a bit as you started to apologize, only to falter when you saw both Vision and Wanda’s gleeful stares.

    “Well, those are wonderful names too,” Wanda assured you, clearly pleased you had chimed in, “but I’m not hoping for quadruplets. I guess we’ll need the next best thing— A girl.”

    Your shoulders relaxed from their hunched places that you hadn’t noticed they took. You chuckled and strolled out the door, throwing a couple more ideas over your shoulder, “Vivian! Virginia! Nadia!”

    Vision’s voice floated after you as you walked to the kitchen. “Ooh, Vivian’s quite good…”

    When you returned to the bedroom with good-as-new mobile in hand, only final touches needed to be added to the nursery, and Wanda and Vision’s excitement over the baby’s coming was suddenly amped up to eleven. The two were pacing around and frantically listing off the all things that they had left to do or buy. It was a very drastic change from the casual playfulness that you had experienced between them earlier, as the new parents were keeping themselves—and you—busy with a thousand new tasks. Eventually, Vision had a list about as long as he was tall of every bottle, diaper, blanky, binky, children’s book, and stuffed animal that they had yet to get.

    Deciding you were now the more sane member of the group, you decided to take the list and go shopping for them; if you didn’t, Vision may have been swept up in the baby section of a clothing store and never return. That’s how you ended up where you were now, at the front of an ever-growing line of department store customers, waiting anxiously as the workers tried to get the lights back on and the cash register back in working order.

    You rapped your fingernails on the countertop—not intentionally, just out of worry about how your parents-to-be were managing at home—and glanced from your bloated shopping cart to the cashier, who was talking quietly with a manager then back several times. You were antsy about being stuck in a store when you were much useful elsewhere and being concerned about whether you were making the cashier uncomfortable with your mannerisms, for they were probably three times as unsettled as you were, wasn’t doing anything but adding on to the stress.

    Finally, the cashier turned back to you and the rest of the shoppers and announced, “Good news, everybody! The register is still down but it’s a quick switch to manual; we’ll have each and every one of you checked out and on your ways home soon!”

    A cheer erupted around you but you were too frazzled to join in.

    “Unfortunately,” the cashier continued as the noise died down, “we’re not the only store experiencing this. It’s the whole town.”

    While the crowd’s disappointed “Aww” only appeared mildly disgruntled, you went rigid and your mind began racing, all thoughts revolving around a particular household.

    One random thought of wondering What if Wanda went into labor right now? had the hair on your arms sticking straight up.

    You slammed your hand down on the counter, spooking both the cashier and yourself.

    “Ma’am,” you started, then paused to quickly apologize for your rudeness before continuing, “I need you to check me out as fast as humanly possible; I think my—” Wife seemed way out of line but girlfriend felt too out of place. “—pah-art-ner’s having a baby.”

    You were struggling to your car with a small mountain of baby items in the arms in a matter of minutes, mentally kicking yourself for being bad at talking the entire way there. You threw your bags in the back, scrambled into the driver’s seat, and were getting ready to pull away from the curb when a ringing from your mobile phone sounded.

    “Goddammit,” you huffed. One hand was pulling up an antenna and pressing the technological brick to your ear while the other gripped your steering wheel so hard that your knuckles turned three skin tones lighter. “Yeah, hello?”

    “[Y/N]?” Agnes’s voice was a welcome surprise but her worried tone wasn’t.

    “No, it’s your husband, I’m on my way home now, dear,” you snarked, then mentally kicked yourself again. “Sorry, that was rude, I’m in a rush. What’s crackin’? Besides the town going into blackout, that is.”

    “The neighborhood’s flooded,” Agnes said simply.

    You blanched. “I’m sorry?”

    “The cul-de-sac? Something’s happened and all the pipes have burst. Mine, Herb’s, Dotty’s, everyone’s!”

    How on earth the day’s mood has changed so quickly, you had no idea. What you did know is that you desperately had to get back to Wanda’s side, your house be damned.

    “Thanks, ‘Nes, good to know,” you hissed through clenched teeth. You rested your phone between your ear and shoulder as you put both hands on the wheel and started driving.

    “Do you want me to do anything?” Agnes asked; her voice sounded as frazzled as you and the rest of Westview looked. “Go over to your place, grab anything important?”

    You huffed out a sigh as your car flew around a corner. “Agnes, you know I adore you, but I really, really have to go.” 

    “[Y/N]—”

    You hung up and tossed the shoe-sized device in the passenger’s seat.

    Vision met you on the curb as you were parking your car and he had the doctor from earlier that day in tow, now dressed in vacationing attire and very seeming very underprepared. Within a few words and as if you had accidentally wished it into existence back at the department store, you were informed that Wanda was in fact about to have little Billy or Tommy or who-have-you. Of course, this messy day would come to a peak in such a way.

    The taller man was half-escorting, half-hauling both you and the doctor to the door, and the bags in the backseat of your car were completely forgotten as concern chewed away at your insides. Loud, strained sounds coming from inside only added onto it.

    As the three of you reached the front door, Vision flung it open and pressed the doctor inside. Then he grabbed your wrist and began tugging you in after himself.

    You couldn’t help your feet freezing to the concrete. “Vis, are you sure?”

    The distress on his face softened just slightly and he pressed the back of your hand to his lips. “Of course we are.” Then he wrapped an arm around you and properly, albeit quickly, brought you into his and Wanda’s home—

    —where Wanda was laying on the floor, panting and shimmering with sweat and holding a baby wrapped in a blue and white dishtowel while Geraldine perched awkwardly over her.

    You and Vision shared a bug-eyed look before Vision’s turned into one of sadness. You wanted so badly to hug him and tell him it was alright but he was already releasing you and slowly walking over; you trailed a couple of steps after him.

    “Oh no,” he murmured, “I missed it?” However, when he took a look at Wanda’s softly smiling face and their happily cooing baby, whatever brief grief he was experiencing was replaced by a proud smile and new fatherly glow.

    “Hey, doc,” Geraldine spoke suddenly, “why don’t you help me out in the kitchen there?” She nodded in your direction as well.

    You wondered why she was there, in Wanda’s home or Westview, at all. The idea made your stomach flip but you just couldn’t place why.

    The only response the doctor gave was blubbering about speeding as she took his arm and led him away. You began to follow when Vision stopped you with a gentle tug on your arm.

    “No, [Y/N],” he said, “it’s alright. Stay and come see.”

    You didn’t even think as you smiled and took his hand. You took a glance towards the kitchen to make sure the other company was occupied, then kissed the back of his hand as he had done only a moment earlier. Squeezing it and letting it drop, you responded, “Go say hello to your baby. I’ll always be here.”

    Given the current situation, Vision wasn’t up for arguing much. He gave you a quick peck on the temple before gingerly making his way over to where Wanda rested happily on the living room floor.

    You made your way to the kitchen, where you slumped against the kitchen counter as exhaustion overtook you. You were close enough to both parties to hear Geraldine’s blatant attempts at distracting the doctor to your left and Vision and Wanda’s cozy rumblings to your right, but too out of sorts to make out anything tangible. You didn’t realize until now how badly your feet ached from the combination of gardening, decorating, and running around and how your outfit had lost its cute playfulness in place of wrinkles and feeling slightly damp from sweat. You were sure you were looking more worse for wear than Wanda, despite Wanda having had a baby, but when you thought about it for more than a second or two, you felt like you wouldn’t trade the day for any other in the world. 

    Especially when thinking about that cutie patootie, you thought with a tired smile. He’s gonna have such good parents. Such a good life.

    Suddenly, your train of thought was stopped by the sound of Wanda yelling and your whole body jerked in her direction, energetic as ever.

    Wanda was going into labor a second time, you could see easily see. Something somehow more surprising was going on in the living area, though, and that something was Vision’s skin. While he still wore his regular clothes, that was the only normal thing about him. Instead of light skin, his flesh was a deep red and you weren’t even sure it could be called skin; it looked more… mechanical than that, with symmetrical lines etched into some places and silver plating covering others. Instead of a full head of wavy hair, he had none, and his ears and parts of his bald skull were also covered in silver. Silver came to a peak at the top of his forehead and at the end of it was a golden gem.

    Vision was holding his baby and yelling along with Wanda as she began pushing a second time. He happened to glance up and catch your bewildered eye and then he started yelling because of you.

    You stood frozen in place, not sure what to do until you heard a commotion behind you.

    “Well, what’s going on now?” Geraldine started.

    Your brain kicked back into full gear and thinking quickly and somewhat stupidly, you yelled and pointed in the opposite direction, “Jeepers creepers, is that a stork?” You couldn’t imagine why your poor attempt at a distraction worked but you considered it a success as Geraldine and the still-disoriented doctor’s attention settled elsewhere. Not missing a beat, you grabbed another cloth from the kitchen and raced to Wanda and Vision’s aid, skidding to a halt on your knees.

    “[Y/N],” Vision said, though nothing else followed. He stared at you in pure shock, mouth flapping and the bright blue irises of his eyes twisting and shifting like a camera lens as he looked at you. Still, his body worked despite his befuddled mind as he took the cloth you handed him and offered you a newborn baby to hold instead. 

    “[Y/N],” Wanda gasped through her current endeavor. When you dragged your head to look at her, she was staring at you with a clenched jaw and equally wide eyes, which were filled with a mixture of surprise, horror, and… relief? Then she was screaming and pushing again, eyes squeezed shut, and her hand flew to your own.

    You grabbed it and held on tight, even when her fingernails dug in enough to leave marks for days. While a red and silver-skinned Vision handled the delivery like a champ—a bugged out, stammering, robotic champ who couldn’t figure out whether he should be looking at you, his wife, or the baby he was helping into the world but a champ nonetheless—you switched between offering encouraging words to the tiring new mother and cooing calmly at the newborn swaddled and resting cozily in the crook of your arm. Soon enough, Wanda was slumping back into the pillow behind her head and Vision was sitting back on his haunches with another quiet baby snuggled against his chest; your taut muscles sagged and the exhaustion you hit in the kitchen came rushing back. 

    You made sure Wanda was lucid enough to take her baby back and carefully transferred from your arms to hers. It was only after he was safely in his mother’s grasp that you were able to fully relax, tossing an arm around Vision’s shoulders and leaning heavily against him while you shook out your other hand, which was red and covered in deep, crescent moon-shaped marks.

    “So,” you puffed, “Billy and Tommy?”

    Wanda’s tired face lit up as she nodded her head towards her baby. “Tommy.”

    Vision, who was leaning on you as much as you were on him—something in the back of your head noted that the two of you held each other very well and that something sent a little pang of affection straight to your pounding heart—used his turn to nuzzle the forehead of the baby he held and grumble in a half British, half baby-talk accent, “Billy.”

    You hummed while stretching a hand down to give Billy a very ginger boop on the nose; he didn’t seem to mind. Then you said, “Vinny and Vivian will just have to be next time.”

    Your group shuddered with a mess of tired, soft laughter. Then you began to relax further but as the excitement of childbirth began to wear off, you a new variation of tension settling into your couple. The new parents were sharing increasingly worried looks and if they were communicating telepathically, and it was then that you remembered that the man sitting next to you was for less human than you’d previously made him out to be.

    The realization seemed to hit him at almost the same time because his head swung to look at you just as you had turned to observe his new appearance. On his robotic face—was robotic even the word; was he a robot?—was an expression of outright fear but also something that looked like he was mentally being torn in two different directions. He went to speak several times—his mouth and teeth looked the same, perfect and familiar—only to verbally scramble and backtrack, shaking his head and shrugging his shoulders since his hands were too occupied to scratch his neck. Finally, he appeared to get himself in order and he started, “[Y/N], I can— we can explain—”

    You ran your hand over his scalp and down to rest at the base of his neck; the silver plating felt like metal, while the thick red epidermis was warm and softer to the touch. Not only warm but damp from exertion, and pulsing softly to some form of a heartbeat where you ran a finger over a common pulse point. 

    While your mental energy was rapidly declining, you still managed to quip at the man, “As much as loved the idea of running my fingers through your hair, I think I prefer this over that awful cut that’s in style right now.”

    That left Vision dumbfounded and silent, his mouth flopping open and closed like a fish out of water. On your other side, who had been otherwise quiet and already snoozing as far as you were concerned, broke into a burst of loud laughter that was music to your ears.

    You grinned in response but your muscles were too tired to make it reach your eyes. You shifted over slightly to be closer to Wanda now and brushed your thumb over little Tommy’s cheek before resting doing a similar action to his mother’s. Wanda relaxed her head against your palm and the way she looked up at you from under her lashes made you do mental gymnastics about the ethics of blurting out the L-word then and there.

    Unfortunately, the moment didn’t last much longer because then Geraldine’s voice floated over from the kitchen, getting louder as she and the doctor made their way back from the wild stork chase you sent them on. You quickly looked to Vision, only to see him looking as human as the day you first met him, and noted the sad little string you got from seeing simple blue irises instead of the intricately shifting blue ones that swirled mechanically as he focused on something. It only lasted a moment, though, before you and your trio were busy readjusting yourselves into what you considered normal poses but in reality, probably made the three of you look much more awkward than you previously had.

    You’d just finished settling as Geraldine and her companion walked into the living room and, thinking tiredly and definitely stupidly, you blurted, “Jeepers creepers, another baby!”

    “Twenty fingers and twenty toes, you’ve got two healthy baby boys on your hands.”

    “Thank you, doctor,” Wanda responded as the man handed Billy back to her. Vision stood watchfully next to her, holding Tommy.

    You poked your head up from behind the second crib you were finishing assembling and as the doctor turned to thank Geraldine for her delivery help, you said to the Maximoff couple, “And a second crib all ready to go. If they’re not fans of sleeping separately, let me know and we can exchange the ones you have for one big one.”

    Wanda held out her hand to you as you stood and you walked over to hold it only briefly as she thanked you before leaning over and crooning at Billy and Tommy in turn. You were in the company of others, after all, and there had been enough excitement for one day without revealing your polyamorous relationship to a neighbor and a random doctor.

    It was weird how different the energy felt standing with them now than it had earlier just that day alone. Things still felt new and strange but you no longer felt like a separate unit from the household you were standing in or the people standing and smiling oh so sweetly at you. Then again, maybe that’s just what being involved in the arrival of an unexpected set of twins and making a superhuman discovery about one of your partners did to all blossoming romantic triads in the seventies. 

    Speaking of the doctor, as he began to finish up chatting with Geraldine, Vision beckoned you closer, and after getting an okay to do so, he carefully laid the baby he held in your arms. He gave Tommy a nuzzle and a light tap on the nose, then straightened up and headed towards the door.

    He said to the other man, “Allow me to walk you out, doctor.”

    “Oh, alright,” the doctor responded with an odd quiver in his voice. Said quiver was confirmed to be restlessness, which you had no doubt was attached to some sort of superhuman business Vision had involved him in when picking him up, when he continued, “As long as we actually walk this time?”

    You would definitely have to delve into the mystery of Vision’s sometimes inhuman appearance at a later date but at that moment you were remembering how the entire neighborhood’s pipes had burst. The neighborhood of which your house was a part of and an event you were sure you hadn’t been lucky enough to avoid.

    “Oh, shi—oot,” you stammered, “I should probably get back to my own pad and save what I can from getting water damage. I haven’t even been home to see how bad everything is.” You provided Tommy with a very important explanation in very serious baby babble terms before placing him in his crib. “I’ll just leave my car on this side of the street and bring the other stuff in sometime later this evening if that’s alright with you, Wanda?”

    When you looked at her, she was giving you a confused head tilt. She blinked, then her eyes shot wide open. “Oh, the pipes!” She paused and turned her gaze to the far wall of the living room as if she could see your house through it, then looked back at you with a smile. “Your house should be fine. In fact, I think the entire neighborhood is back intact!”

    Something about the way she looked at you assured you that she was right. You wondered whether Vision wasn’t the only one with a unique secret under this roof and if all the strange happenings that had gone on today couldn’t be traced back to Wanda herself.

    Not that any of that really mattered in the grand scheme of things.

    “I should still go,” you insisted, “You should really rest for a while, and I am a mess for the second time today. Maybe I can pop back over in a little bit?”

    Wanda pursed her lips in a subtle doubt before giving in. She nodded and after taking a glance around to make sure the company was occupied, she grasped your hand and leaned in closer. “Come over for dinner tonight. Stay and help us get the babies settled in? We can talk about today.”

    “Wanda, you need rest—”

    The woman interrupted, a teasing look making her eyes glitter. “Which is why either you or Vision will be doing the cooking! And you know how much I love the man but there’s a reason the only thing he handles in the kitchen is water from the faucet.”

    You had to nod in somber agreement at that statement, then sighed and gave Wanda a pout of your own. “Fine. Now, is anyone looking?”

    Wanda was smiling triumphantly. She took another quick look around, then shook her head; her silky hair fanned out slightly from its position perfectly framing her head as she did.

    You shuffled a little closer and slipped an arm around her waist in an intimate hug. Leaning in, you gave her one quick smooch on the cheek and another on the forehead then mumbled against her skin, “You did amazing.” Another kiss. “And you’re going to be a wonderful mother. Please, though, promise me that you’ll rest, at least for a little bit. The world will not crumble around you if you take one break.”

    Wanda, who had immediately leaned into your embrace and giggled as you kissed her, scoffed slightly. She gave you a tight squeeze and murmured back, “I suppose you’re right. Fine, but only because you promised to cook.”

    “Well, technically,” you said as you broke away from her, “I only said I’d come over. I can’t wait for Vision to make us burnt water and boiled bacon!”

    Wanda stared after you, frozen in a mock gasp. “[Y/N]!”

    You grinned and waved before spinning on your heels and trotting over to where Vision was perched, holding the door. “Bye!”

    When you got to the door, Vision’s hand played lightly down your back as he followed you outside after the doctor. 

    “Well, Dr. Nielson,” Vision said, “I hope you’re still able to make your trip.”

    The doctor, apparently Dr. Nielson, slowed as he stepped off the porch and onto the sidewalk. He turned towards Vision with a glassy look in his eye that he hadn’t had before but you’ve been seeing more and more often in Westview residents these days. When he talked, his speech became slower as well. 

    “Ah, yes, about my trip,” he drawled, “I don’t think we’ll get away after all. Small towns, you know. So hard to… escape.” 

    You frowned, suddenly uneasy. Glancing at Vision, the man just looked confused.

    Dr. Nielson’s glassy gaze shifted from Vision to you. He spoke deliberately to you, “Don’t you think, [Y/N]?” Then he blinked, turned, and walked off down the sidewalk.

    You weren’t sure exactly why, but you flinched and reeled back. You would have tripped and fallen up the porch if it weren’t for Vision catching you. Then the two of you stood gripping each other and staring as the doctor disappeared around the corner. 

    You didn’t even realize that your ears had started ringing until the sound began to fade. You started, “Well, that was…”

    “Yeah,” Vision said with a slow nod. “Very. Are you alright?”

    “Fine, I think.”

    “No migraines?”

    “No migraines.”

    The two of you stood holding each other for a moment longer before you forced your fingers to loosen their death grip on Vision’s jacket. As the two of you relaxed slightly and readjusted yourselves, several questions rushed through your head, like why was that so unnerving and why did the doctor speak directly to you.

    How had he known your name?

    A particularly sharp pain made your vision swim temporarily but it was gone as soon as it came. Before you think any further on the subject, other voices floated into your range of hearing.

    “What is she doing in there?”

    “I don’t know.”

    You followed the voices with your eyes and found Agnes and Herb talking quietly by the wall Herb had been cutting into earlier; actually, Herb looked like he’d barely moved an inch, still standing in the gap between his wall of shrubs. At least he appeared more lucid, but now he and Agnes were huddled together like they were having a secret meeting. Neither of them noticed you yet.

    Vision decided to change that by throwing up a hand and hollering, “Howdy neighbors!”

    Agnes spun around so quickly you were wonder if she’d given herself whiplash, but the strained greetings and even more strained expressions that both she and Herb gave were what really piqued your interest.

    Well, not so much piqued your interest than their actions gave you a second dose of uneasiness that made your head spin and filled you with a sense of somewhat morbid curiosity.

    Then they stuck their heads back together and continued muttering.

    “Did you see her go inside?” Agnes questioned.

    Herb responded, “She went right in.”

    Vision leaned his head closer to yours; he didn’t seem to catch what they were saying. “Do they seem… a little off to you?”

    “Just a tad.”

    You silently deliberated with each other before casually strolling over.

    “Remarkable day we’re having, no?” Vision tried again.

    Agnes and Herb looked up again, also trying to look casual but there was something definitely worrisome about their equally strained smiles.

    Vision continued, “Did you lose power too?”

    You snapped your fingers, joining in. “That’s right! Agnes, you called me about the pipes bursting. I hope nothing got too damaged?”

    “Oh, sure did,” Agnes said to Vision, “but Ralph looks better in the dark, so I’m not complaining. And you’re right, I did, [Y/N]! Luckily, everything’s just fine.”

    There was an awkward pause and even though you were out in open air, you felt like you were struggling to breathe in a sauna.

    Vision said, “Hi, Herb.”

    Herb responded, “Heya, buddy.”

    More awkward silence. 

    “Well,” Vision said slowly, lightly clapping his hands together, “I’ll get back to Wanda. [Y/N], you’re heading home?”

    “Right,” you affirmed, a little too quickly.

    What is going on?

    Vision placing his hand on your back brought back some sense of normalcy as he began escorting you to the curb.

    “Vision,” Agnes abruptly said halting your exit. You and your partner turned back to her and Herb and she continued after a long-winded pause and adjusting her awkward stance leaning against the low wall, “Is Geraldine inside with Wanda?”

    “Yes. Why?”

    Herb piped up, “She’s new to town. Brand new.”

    Wait, that’s not right. Your brows furrowed and you felt the sting of your own bite as you chewed your bottom lip. You felt pressure in your skull as you tried to recall where you’d previously met the woman, because you knew you had, but trying to do so had a similar feeling to trying to grip water as it rushed through your fingers.

    Agnes went on, “There’s no family. No husband.”

    You would have scowled, said something in defense of your circumstances of moving to Westview without a family or marriage, but you were too busy trying to clear away the fog that quickly encroaching your headspace. Vision, on the other hand, was able to say something, “Well there’s nothing wrong with that.”

    Agnes hummed, gave a half-hearted nod, then steadily met his gaze. “No home.”

    Come to think of it, you knew very little about Geraldine. While you were positive that you’d met her before today, you couldn’t for the life of you place what she did for work, when she first appeared in Westview, what house in the cul-de-sac she lived in—

    You could list off the names of everyone who lived in your neighborhood. Geraldine wasn’t one of them.

    Your brain felt like it could expand and explode from the intense pressure at any moment but the dread pooling in the pit of your stomach from the idea of not being able to retrieve memories bothered you far more. You couldn’t bring yourself to push the thoughts away and instead mentally leaned into the pain. The harder you pushed, the more pressure pushed back, as if you were fighting against an invisible barrier that was barring you from your own memories. 

    At the same time, you attempted to keep yourself grounded by staying tuned into the conversation at hand. Vision asked Agnes what she meant by Geraldine having no home and Herb kept stumbling over the same beginning of a sentence—She came here because… She came here because… She came here because we’re all…—like he was a record on a broken player that just wouldn’t let him get out what he wanted to say. 

    Vision tried to urge him on. “She came here because what? What are trying to tell me?”

    With Agnes and Herb bickering briefly about whether or not to tell Vision whatever it was they had been speaking about, Vision completely tuned into them, and you fighting to remember things without succumbing to your migraines, you had an underlying feeling of being out of place. You’ve felt out of place before, of course, but this was something different and weird and wrong. Your entire perfect—but not so much, you were gradually learning—little town suddenly seemed like it was out of place in its state, its country, its world, its reality. Out of nowhere, Westview felt like it was trapped in a claustrophobic little bubble that wouldn’t let anyone escape and the longer anyone was here, the warped things would become—

    A memory came rushing back of a black and white talent show and a smashed mirror and an arm oozing blood and color and Geraldine was there but she was an eerie Geraldine, out of place and time and reality and asking if you knew who she was or who you were and you didn’t know the answer and then Wanda and Vision appeared and everything was okay again, and now the name Monica throbbed against the base of your neck and the air around you radiated electricity and it was itchy and no one around you was noticing anything and instead of darkness, a weird bright light was tinging the edges of your vision white and—

    There was a crash coming from the house and none of the people standing next to you were any the wiser but even though you felt like you were swimming through honey while doing it, you turned just in time to see a portion of a nearby wall explode as something shot out from inside and continued flying until it disappeared into the distance. Then there was a sound similar to a sonic boom that followed and a wave of nausea crashed over you as the electric air rippled and distorted right before your eyes, and then you could see the dome of TV static-looking energy that encapsulated your town and the dome seemed to peak directly above the Maximoff house.

    Your ears rang. Your mouth flapped open closed but you couldn’t force a single word out. You looked around and everyone else in your group seemed trapped in a strained conversation that they couldn’t escape from if they wanted to.

    You didn’t so much walk as you floated over to the gaping hole in the side of your couple’s house, or at least, that’s what it felt like as the ground grew soft and wobbly under your feet and you swayed as you moved. You reached the hole and peered through it, then waved aimlessly when you saw Wanda staring wide-eyed at you from a couple of demolished rooms away. She said or mouthed something—she’s sorry? Why?—but you couldn’t tell which it was over the thrumming of your own pulse in your ears. You cocked your head, more out of curiosity than confusion, then blinked and stared glassy-eyed as the hole in the house reversed itself.

    “Huh,” you said dumbly as the last brick fell back into place. “Cool.”

    Then your body felt as if it were slammed back onto very hard, solid ground and that’s because it was. You weren’t sure if you whined or groaned or screamed as you collapsed to the ground, succumbing to your worst migraine yet. 

[lifeinahole27]

CS ff: “Walking the Tightrope” (Chapter 9/10) (au)

Summary: Killian’s daily routines are a matter of habit. When he wakes up late one morning, his routines all change for the better. Emma doesn’t care about routines, but she does care about Killian, no matter how reluctant she is to admit it to herself.

Rating: E (the content warnings matter this time!)

Content Warnings:  More nefarious doings from Walsh, and some uhhhh... other side of the law consultation from a certain twin. Also, the beginning of the chapter includes a proper parting "goodbye" between Emma and Killian. ;)

A Special Thank You: My continued gratitude to my lovely friends, @captainstudmuffin and @phiralovesloki. And a heap of love to @captainswanbigbang for putting this together and helping me accomplish this.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 |

Find it on Ao3 & FFN!

-x-

Chapter 9: Of Reunions and Baggage

There’s a lot to be said for the quiet moments they create while they’re together, and Killian is ever happier for the one they had in his office on Saturday. As the week wears on, both of them get more nervous and distracted for what’s coming for them at the end of the week. While they have two different kinds of anxiety, Killian also knows at this point they’re just feeding off each other’s nerves.

Killian is definitely feeling the pressures of the party looming closer. It’s a simple holiday party; he’s had no hand in planning it which is always a relief to him, but it’s bound to feel bigger because of the stakes involved. The most he’ll have to do is give a small speech and make sure Henry is present, and even that isn’t really his job with Robin and Regina as his new foster family.

Closer to Friday, Killian and Emma spend time at each other’s places getting ready for their trips. He’s flying out on Friday morning with the Mills-Hood clan for a weekend in New York City. His original intentions were to take Emma to the party, then spend a day in the city and an evening together before they drove back on Sunday. With no Emma, he was able to tag along with the others for their trip down. 

Emma, meanwhile, is driving down to Boston with David. Her task is a little more soul-destroying than his is going to be. With that in mind, he accepts the help she gives on picking out his suit and tie, packing them into his travel garment bag and making sure everything is included. 

They spend the next night at Emma’s place, the emotions on the same wavelength but nowhere near as intense as last time they were there, until Killian can finally coax her to sleep with the way his fingers travel through her hair over and over again. 

Much like the last time, one of them is awoken from the gentle persuasion of lips on lips, but this time, Killian is remaking that memory with every intention of sending Emma off on her trip in a lighter mood than she would be. 

The dawn light is just starting to break through, and Emma will have to leave sooner than either of them wants her to, but in the warmth of her bed, they can both pretend that nothing else exists.

With his lips against hers, Killian slowly draws Emma from her sleep. She’s a temptress when she wakes up, as it’s with her inhibitions low that she has no hesitance showing and telling him exactly what she wants. This morning is no different than the other times they’ve woken each other in such ways, as her hands start gently encouraging him downwards.

It was the destination he had in mind, and he’d never deny her anyway, so he easily glides from the kiss to giving proper attention to her neck and chest. He pushes her sleep shirt out of the way in order to spend a little time with her breasts while his hand slips beneath the ridiculous things she calls sleep shorts. He pays close attention to her movements, her breathing, her sounds, and when she’s on the precipice of losing her patience with his pace, that’s when he moves onward again, replacing his fingers with his lips while he slides her shorts down her legs. 

With deliberate motions, he works on coaxing her up to a climax in a slow and steady way. Just when her hands are clutching at his hair, however, he backs off, easing her away from the breaking point while smiling against the barrage of angry noises she makes. 

Twice more he takes her up to the edge of the cliff of pleasure, making sure that she’s on board the whole time even though her noises of aggravation are starting to include the way she grumbles his name. 

By the time he relents and brings her to climax, he’s almost painfully hard and he and Emma are both covered in a thin sheen of sweat. All the way down her chest is pink from the exertion, but she’s the one that pulls him up, and readies him with protection while he’s still catching his breath. With obvious intent, she pushes him onto his back, sliding onto his cock in one easy movement. 

It’s new every time they have sex - the feelings change, or the mood is different - and this time is no exception. She’s a powerhouse on top of him, pulling his hand up to cup her breast while she rides away. Between gasping breaths, she whispers his name, bringing them both close to orgasm with each movement of her hips. 

When her hands clench where they’re positioned on his chest, he knows it’s only a matter of time before she crests again, and so he presses against where they’re joined with his left wrist, planting his feet for better leverage to meet her thrust for thrust and urging her to fall again before he reaches his own. 

It doesn’t take long, and then Emma is grinding down on him in need, falling against his chest when pleasure takes her over one more time. She lazily bites his shoulder as she comes down, finally igniting his own orgasm and he holds her against him with all his strength. When the last drop of him is spent, he relaxes, letting his legs fall back to the mattress but still cradling Emma close to him. 

“You are marvelous,” he whispers against her forehead. 

She sits up, pushing sweaty hair off her face and smiling down at him. “So are you. Hopefully we’ve both made up for the fact that we won’t be spending this weekend together.”

“And there will be more where that came from when we meet up again, love. Meanwhile, we both know David will be here sooner than either of us want him to be,” he informs her, regretting the fact that she’s shifting out of his arms and the comfortable hold her body had on him releases.

She sighs at that, smiling as she climbs off the bed. “You’re right. Stick around until I’m done?”

He nods at her, pulling her back for one more solid kiss before she grabs her robe and heads off down the stairs. 

In the meantime, he cleans up as much as he can and heads down to make coffee and toast for the both of them. 

-x-

Emma is something beyond used to the drive to Boston. Thanks to dating Walsh, the route is so familiar now that it’s almost boring. Okay, so it would be boring if she’d managed to stay awake past ten minutes after they got on the road. But it’s still way too early and Killian did too good of a job of helping her relax this morning, and so she’s out like a light right as David hits his comfortable speed.

She dozes for most of the drive, knowing that the trip is in David’s very capable driving skills. He wakes her up when they’re about twenty minutes away from the address that James gave them, and while she knew he wouldn’t be smack in the middle of downtown, she’s surprised at the suburban feel she’s getting as they get closer and closer. 

“No fucking way,” Emma mutters when they reach the address. 

The house they pull up to is large and sprawling, and nothing at all what she imagined James would be living in. Of course, she mostly imagined he’d live in some seedy apartment building in the shady side of town with some kind of elaborate code system to even get into the lobby. 

But this looks clean and wealthy, and she honestly doesn’t know what to think anymore. 

If she thought she was surprised before, she doesn’t know what she is when James answers the door. 

“Ah, if it isn’t the do-gooders of the family. Come in,” he tells them, still gently bopping as a baby in a harness sleeps against his chest before he moves back into the house. 

Emma looks over to David, who looks back at her with the same wide eyes she knows she has.

“Heat costs money. Get in or get out - either way I don’t care as long as that door is shut.”

At the distant prompting, they finally both move forward, closing the door behind them and taking a moment to remove their boots on the provided mat. With her shoes off first, Emma follows the sounds she can hear and finds James in the kitchen. He’s carefully pulling mugs off a set of hooks beneath the cabinets, while an expensive looking kettle heats on the stove.

“I figured this was a conversation that would do well with some tea. You have a preference?” 

“My boyfriend probably would, but I’ll take any kind you have,” Emma says, moving to sit on one of the stools he gestures towards. David joins just a moment later, settling in next to Emma after offering to help and getting shooed away. 

When James turns back to work on getting the tea ready, all Emma can do is mentally compare the two brothers in her head. James has this whole brooding look going for him, with facial hair that frames his jaw and chin but looks trimmed and maintained. While David usually wears anything in blues, James is dressed in a black shirt and gray slacks - nothing Emma would expect someone to wear casually around the house, but she has no explanations for anything this man does. 

“So why would the two of you need my help when you’re both in law enforcement?” James asks, breaking her from her thoughts.

“It’s Emma that needs the help, actually,” David points out. “You’re a father?”

“This is Robert James. We call him RJ. And he’s king of this household,” James introduces, lovingly stroking the infant’s wisps of hair. “You need me to hack something?”

“Sort of. Yeah. Probably. Okay, definitely.” She’s having a hard time concentrating when she can’t stop staring at the baby attached to the evil twin of her two brothers.

As if sensing this, James huffs and rolls his eyes. With gentle maneuvers, he takes RJ out of the carrier and carefully deposits him in Emma’s arms so swiftly that she doesn’t even have time to protest. She feels the way her lip pouts at the adorable sleeping boy in her arms but she just can’t help it. She’s been hoping for ages that David and Snow were going to have one of their own so she could have a moment like this. She’s an aunt, no matter if she’s in this kid’s life or not. 

“Okay, Auntie Emma. Spill.” 

At the title, no matter how sarcastic he was being, she does almost cry, but takes another moment to look at the sweet innocence in her arms before she starts her explanation.

“Okay shut up and don’t say anything in response to what I’m about to tell you,” Emma finally says. “I was dating a guy down here a couple years ago and it turns out he has this sick website with naked pictures of all the women he’s slept with.”

James stares at her for a second, lifting an eyebrow. When the tea kettle whistles, he goes to retrieve it, pouring equal measures into each of the mugs placed on the island.  “What you’re telling me is that sweet little Emma has porn? On the internet?” 

“James.” The warning tone in David’s voice is evident.

“No no, little brother. I get to take a moment to soak in the fact that mom’s second favorite is involved in a porn scandal, okay?” He stands back, placing his hands on his hips and taking a few deep breaths. “Fantastic. Okay. So you want me to hack the site and delete yours?”

“I want them all deleted. The whole website. But this time I need to know that all digital copies were destroyed. And I’m sure he has physical copies, as well.”

“Tallying this up, we’re looking at breaking and entering, hacking, a nasty virus if needed, and theft of personal property?”

“Personal property that he doesn’t have consent to have.”

James bobs his head in consideration for that. “Okay. You have your needs, and I have mine. I want any cash we find in his place. And David has to watch the baby.”

“What?”

“You can’t bring a baby to a B&E, David. And I’m certainly not bringing my son, either,” James says with almost a straight face. He laughs and shifts out of the way of David’s half-hearted attempt to punch his arm. “So what about you? Where’s your kid?”

“We uh, we don’t have one yet,” David admits. 

“Is everything all right?” James asks, and Emma looks sharply at him, trying to decipher that tone. “I mean, she’s not a prude or anything, right? I remember Snow was a hottie when you met her.”

That’s a more familiar tone. She’s almost sure that there’s a softness to him that wasn’t there before, though. 

“You’re an asshole,” David announces, clearly missing the nuance of the previous statement. “I’m the sheriff. It’s not easy to just take off that amount of time.”

“That sounds like bullshit. You have Emma here as your deputy and the whole town is like two thousand people. You can probably take as much time as you need.”

“How do you know I’m the deputy?” Emma asks, but David speaks a moment later and her question goes unanswered.

“I worry about being a good father. We didn’t have a lot of years with dad and I just… I worry.”

“Dave. If I can keep a baby alive, I’m pretty sure you can.”

“This is a weird energy,” Emma states, unused to the fact that James is being the calm and confident one and David is on shaky ground. 

“Here,” James says, taking RJ from her arms and placing him with David instead. “Follow me. It’s time to put him in his crib. Emma, don’t go through my stuff.”

Of course, the minute he’s out of the room, Emma is up and out of her seat. She wanders the kitchen first, taking a peek into his disgustingly clean fridge and opening a few cupboard doors just to see. 

In the entryway, there are several portraits of RJ looking fresh and tiny. In one, he’s wrapped snugly in a gray blanket, his eyes closed and a peaceful expression on his face. The one next to that has him cradled between two arms, artfully posed so that no little baby bits are exposed due to the lack of clothes. 

“He shit in my hand like ten seconds after that,” James says from directly behind her. There’s such a fondness in his voice that it makes her smile.

“You probably deserved it,” she says, turning and placing a hand on his elbow. “Congratulations. He’s really adorable.”

“Thanks,” is all he says in response, giving her a genuine smile for the first time. 

Returning to the kitchen, they spend a few extra minutes talking as they finish their drinks. They leave David shortly after their mugs are empty, with James reminding him no less than four times to call if there are any problems. 

There’s total silence on the ride over, and James makes sure to park two blocks over just to be safe. It would be so much easier to do this if it wasn’t December and freezing right now, but at least it isn’t snowing. The latch on the door to the building is still broken, which is fine by her since it’s one less thing they have to break into.

“You remember how to do it like I showed you?” James asks, pulling out his lock-pick set and holding it out to her. 

“Don’t you ever tell David I know how to do this or I will hunt you down,” she mutters as she takes the kit and gets to work. 

They split up once inside in order to thoroughly comb the small space Walsh likes to call home. It’s little more than a one-bedroom hovel, barely larger than a postage stamp and definitely not worth the rent he’s paying per month. While James focuses on the computer and getting into the website, Emma goes through every drawer, every closet, every nook and cranny she can find.

She hits the jackpot in his bedroom closet, there in the very back, where a locked box sits on the top shelf. She doesn’t even need the kit to get it open, wiggling the flimsy lock just right and grinning when it pops open. She tries not to look too closely at any of the pictures, but it’s definitely a carefully catalogued collection. She sets it on the bed while she keeps combing through his stuff, only satisfied when every item has been shifted and put carefully back in place. 

Since it’s the middle of a workday, she never expected that they’d have to confront Walsh at all. She’s doing nothing more than waiting for James to finish up at this point when she hears the front door open and close again.

“Fuck,” she mutters, knowing that they can’t exactly hide. 

“Well, it’s a good thing I’m all done here,” James says. His thumbs hook under the ledge above the keyboard when he goes to push away and his eyebrows draw down for a second. “Almost done,” he adds, lifting the thumb drive that was clearly not meant to be found. He pockets it just as Walsh walks into the room.

-x-

After seeing Emma off, Killian walks back to his place to shower and get ready for his own trip. Since he had to change his whole trip around, he managed to get on to the same flight as Robin and his merry band of family, and they’re picking him up on their way to the airport soon.

The flight is quick, and he takes his time settling into the hotel room; he’s in for a whirlwind of an evening, so the quiet leading up to the event is something he strives to enjoy.

There’s the small matter that he hasn’t heard much from Emma. But again, she wasn’t quite sure what she was walking into with her ex and David’s twin. He’s glad she was at least able to text him that she’d arrived safely in Boston, but he tempers his hopes that he’ll hear from her again before this is all over.

For most of their events, NeverEndings hosts their parties right in the office, but this one is the biggest event they’ll host all year. The venue has a spectacular view of the city, especially when there’s a light snowfall just starting. He knows it isn’t going to last, and none of it is supposed to stick, but it makes for a pretty view beyond the windows as the sun sets behind the clouds and the party begins. 

All of the major clients of the publishing house start filtering in, and Killian makes sure to paste on the smile he’s perfected for such events. After only a couple minutes of schmoozing, however, he feels like his cheeks are going to crack and his eyes are watering, so he excuses himself to get another drink. It’s just ginger ale tonight, which is fine by him. 

At the bar, he finds Henry looking dapper in his new suit and his hair slicked back much like Robin styles his. 

“All right there, lad?”

“Yeah, just trying to take it all in,” Henry responds, smiling and observing the room at large. “Hey Killian? I never got to say thank you to you or Emma for all your help. Why isn’t she here tonight?”

“She had a personal matter to attend to. I’ll make sure we get lunch sometime soon so you can say it in person,” Killian tells him. “How are things going with Robin and our illustrious leader?”

“It’s going great! I mean, Regina has me doing all these chores around the house and she’s got me enrolled in school for after the holidays end. It’ll be weird going back to public school after being home-schooled so much. She also loves signing us all up for activities. We’ve done two painting classes as a group now down at Aurora’s shop.”

Killian knows the boy is aiming for disaffection or something similar, but the wistful tone to his voice is giving it all away. He’s loving it. From one great family to an absolute personal hell, now back into something like a family, Henry is having the experiences he always wanted as a child. 

“Is she making you eat vegetables, too?”

Henry groans with great exaggeration. “So many vegetables. I like Pop-Tarts and Apollo Bars!”

“She just might be the best mum ever, then,” Killian points out, wagging a finger at Henry’s face.

The teenager’s mirth settles until his smile is soft. “Yeah, she might be. She also wants to sign me up for these online writing classes so I can get even better so maybe you’ll have an easier time editing the sequel to my novella.”

As soon as the words are out of his mouth, Henry looks like he didn’t mean to say them.

“I mean, if you guys even choose to publish it. I don’t expect you to. I don’t mean...I’m sorry.”

“You have a second one started?” Killian asks, forgetting all about the fact that they should be mingling, that he should be introducing Henry to everyone that’s still wandering in. “What’s it about, then?”

“Well, I mean, it’s still in the works. I just started it during Thanksgiving after I moved up here. But I had this idea to use someone like… like a villain in other stories. Like Captain Hook? And make him this anti-hero who helps the heroes even though he doesn’t feel like he’s one of them, and it’s because of this that he falls in love.” He’s avoiding eye contact with Killian and the math is pretty easy at that point, so Killian hides his grin behind his ginger ale. 

“Who does he fall in love with?”

“Haven’t decided yet,” Henry says, the frustrations of a young writer coming out in his voice. “It’s between a couple different people. You figure after all those happy endings that all those fairytale characters went and got married and had kids, right? So maybe he meets someone like Rapunzel and Flynn Rider’s daughter when she’s all grown up. Or Snow White and Prince Charming!”

“I love the concept. And can’t wait to edit this next one with you.”

“Next one? Has my liege acquired our services for his next novella?” Robin comes over, clapping Henry fondly on the shoulder as he gestures with his other hand for another round of drinks. 

“Aye, your lad seems to have the next installment all figured out. All we have to do now is get him to write it.”

“Knowing him, he’ll have it written before spring break,” Robin says fondly. “How are you handling all this so far, Henry?”

“It’s… a lot to take in.”

“We’ll go slow. Let either of us know if you need a breather. We’ll focus most of the interacting after dinner is over so you can get adjusted.”

Henry nods, turning just in time for the ball of energy that is Roland to come bounding into his arms. 

“Come look! Come look!” the boy says, grabbing onto Henry’s hand and pulling him away from Robin and Killian. Henry sort of rolls his eyes but stands up, looking over his shoulder and shrugging as he gets led over to the windows as Roland excitedly points at all the buildings visible from this angle. 

“He may look like a grumbling teenager, but don’t let him fool you. He loves it,” Robin says after they’re both out of hearing range. 

“I feel like I already know the answer to this, but how’s he doing?”

“Better than I ever could’ve expected. If I would’ve realized what he was living with, I would’ve suggested this move sooner.”

“How’s Regina handling yet another male in the house?”

Robin chuckles for a moment. “You know, she told me shortly after we started seeing each other that she couldn’t have children. I had Roland, so it’s not like I was in a rush to have any more. But she loved him so quickly and so fully, that I was sure we were fine exactly as we were. And then Henry came in and completed the picture that I didn’t know was unfinished.”

“I’m happy for you all, mate. And I’m glad he’ll be in town with all of us. Talent and imagination like that needs to be cultivated and loved. And lord knows we all have the skills to do that in Storybrooke.”

“That’s why I prefer the branch to be with us instead of down here. It’s all very pretty, lit up like this and with the snow and the Christmas spirits dancing in the air. But Storybrooke has that all the time - not just around the holidays.”

“Also, if you don’t pick up his sequel, I will personally lay my professional career on the line in order to publish it,” Killian says after a moment.

“Don’t be ridiculous. We’ll sign any and all books that lad publishes for the rest of his life, if I have my way. Also, we haven’t told him yet, but we’re already looking to adopt him if he’ll have us.

Robin leaves Killian standing there with that information and Killian can’t help the full grin on his face. He takes a deep breath, asks for one more refill on his drink, and then wanders to their table to wait for dinner to be served.

-x-

Chapter 10

[tomsrebeleyebrow]

Finding Love by the Nile | pharaoh!th x fem!reader

Summary: New Pharaoh Tom is young and handsome. After succeeding to his father at a very young age, he is now respected and loved by everyone – but mostly desired by the all ladies of the Egypt Kingdom. As big as his harem can be, one particular creature catches his attention since long time ago and now, he is determined to make her his.

Pairing: Pharaoh!Tom x Commoner!Reader

Warnings: some cute cocky Tom moments but full fluff power

Word Count: 3485

A/N: I’m such a sucker for Egyptian mythology since forever so I decided to combine this passion with Tom, because I’ve never read something like that(?). And there is actually a Tutankhamun exhibition in Paris (and I wish so hard I could go tbh), that’s how this idea popped up into my brain 😗 So yeah, we’ll see how it goes!! Hope you like it ✨

⚠️ For the sake of the plot with the time period and ethnic details (Antic Egypt), the reader (Y/N) will have black/brunette hair, brown eyes and a little tanned skin. Tom will also be a bit more tanned. Thank you for your understanding!! ⚠️

masterlist

City of Giza, Egypt – c. 1539 BC

(Y/N) walks in the streets of the city center. It’s barely ten in the morning. People mill in the alleys and the merchants don’t hesitate to scream about their good deals in hope to tempt new customers. Children weave in and out the crowd playing tag, as their giggles full of life mix with the regular morning hubbub.

Always so much life, nothing changes.

This is the place where the young (Y/N) was born and grown up, in a kind family in a modest home but where it was good to live in. But nothing goes as we plan them to be. And (Y/N) still remembers that particular day where her destiny changed.

The old pharaoh left the world of the living to join the Other Side of god Osiris. All Egypt cried its deceased king who reigned for almost thirty years. And all Egypt got surprised to see a twelve-year old boy announced as his heir. His only child. When the boy was officially proclaimed as Pharaoh of the Egypt Kingdom, the population got to finally discover the face of its new ruler. So young but already with a disconcerting beauty. Wild brown hair due to ridiculous curls, but that seemed weirdly soft to touch. Big brown eyes so deep and sharp but warm at the same time. Him and (Y/N) were the same age at the time. She couldn’t stop but stare at him with marvel and astonishment. Both their worlds were different: the rich sovereign family on one side and the servant people on the other. But that didn’t stop the aforesaid people to cheer and honor their new king chosen by the Gods. And (Y/N) did the same.

Then time flew by and (Y/N) is now eighteen. Long and thick brunette hair cascades on her back, framing a luscious body as well as her gorgeous visage, with hazelnut eyes and soft lips. Stride across the streets of the city, on a market day, is one of her favorite hobbies. It is nearly impossible for her to miss this day, unless if her father needs some help for work.

‘(Y/N)!!’ As she hears her name, she turns her head toward the voice.

‘Oh, hi Nana! How are you?’ Asks (Y/N) with a warm smile.

It is “Nana”, as casually named, the old neighbor lady next to (Y/N)’s household. She is like a second grandmother to her and they truly are fond of each other. (Y/N) couldn’t miss an occasion to pay her a visit.

‘Good, my child, thank you. I bumped into you father while going out and he asked me to tell you, if I saw you, to join him in front of the bridge outside the city.’

Oh. (Y/N) knows more than well what that means.

‘Your father is making more and more return trips to the Royal Palace. It seems like the Pharaoh appreciates his fabrics a lot!’ Laughs Nana.

The Pharaoh. Just talking about it makes (Y/N) let out a big sigh. She is not the only one that grown up, the young Pharaoh from six years ago back then has also changed. Quite a lot.

(Y/N) observed his evolution during several visits to the Palace. Born in a modest family of linen farmers since decades, the young lady grown between fields and weavers and was determined to carry on the traditions. Everyone liked their textiles made of linen, including the royal family who put its trust in (Y/N)’s father. As soon as she was able to work (quite early), her father brought her with him to the Pharaoh’s Palace to deliver and propose new textiles. Of course she always stayed behind to let her father handle the family business, but she took advantage of it to observe the new “little king”, – as some people called him at first –, at any occasion. His mother and close advisers were always in sight to guide him at the beginning of his reign.

Still in power nowadays, he is now known as the young and handsome eighteen-year old Pharaoh idolized by all the country. Besides getting more self-confidence, he doesn’t stop and rush around like a madman to develop Egypt. And the people respect him for that matter. But what noticed (Y/N) over the years was, in addition to all that, that he became a true charmer. More like a lady-killer, in fact. He knew that. ‘The Pharaoh is so handsome!’, ‘He is more and more beautiful!’, ‘Did you see his muscles?’, ‘He must be blessed by Ra, God of the Sun!’ All the time. Any woman falls in love with him and, without anyone noticing well not really but anyway, the young Pharaoh created his own harem. Of course, like he would care. (Y/N) noticed with great regret even if she will never admit it out loud the number of young ladies increasing each time she visited the Royal Palace with her father. One even more beautiful than the other, wearing dresses too much fitted – probably created with the linen of her family – and some black kohl around the eyes, they were free to go around the Palace as they wish. But where (Y/N) could see them endlessly was next of him. All the damn time. This is what people call jealousy.

(Y/N) sighs again thinking about this all over again. She couldn’t stop, this feeling is stronger that she imagines. But it is time for her to accept her fated destiny…

‘Thanks Nana, I will go find him’ Replies finally (Y/N) while taking the granny in her arms for a hug, ‘And you, be careful at the market, okay? I’ll see you this evening!’ She then takes her leave and starts walking to the bridge, while waving to Nana on her way.

After a few minutes she catches sigh of her father who is rushing to reorganize some textiles in his barrow. (Y/N) speeds up to help him.

‘I’m here, father!’

‘Ah, there you are (Y/N)!’ exclaims her father, turning towards his daughter’s voice, smiling. ‘I was checking if I took all the textiles to show to the Pharaoh. There we go. Everything is ready, we can go.’

Both of them set off and cross the bridge heading to the Royal Palace. It is around twenty minutes walk on the other side of the river. This is the perfect time for father and daughter to chat together about anything. The Palace is located in the South of Giza by the Nile. The air is hot, as usual, but walking by the water creates a fresh breeze that lightens their steps.

‘I see you’re wearing the new dress you made yourself yesterday’ notices her father, a proud smile showing.

The dress worn by (Y/N) is her own creation. Her mother taught her at a young age how to weave textile to then sew it and create costumes, and (Y/N) took a great liking in it. Today she wears a straight mid-length dress in cream-colored linen she tinted, with the collar and straps sewed in big stripes of pearls. The bottom of it is embellished with some patterns of Isis’ feathers. Her feet are covered in strappy sandals in dark leather.

‘You really are talented, sweetheart. I am so proud of you’ continues her father. He adores his daughter more than anything in the world, and nothing could make him happier than seeing her walk on his steps. He is sure she will accomplish great things in the future.

‘Thank you, father’ smiles (Y/N), ‘Mother also helped me a lot with the pearls.’

‘You are both talented and beautiful women.’

A peaceful silent takes place in the discussion. Both of them were all smiles and little by little, the Royal Palace is appearing in the arid horizon. (Y/N)’s thoughts start to turn upside down again, her throat is dry, her hands sweaty and an uneasy feeling begins to grow in her stomach. For some time now, it was the same. A sort of odd stress that she felt as soon as she was near the Pharaoh’s Royal Palace. The Pharaoh.

‘Your mother and I combined two types of linen to create a new type of textile. I wonder if it will be to the Pharaoh’s liking.’

Everything goes blank around her and her father’s words wanders in the air. Could I appeal to the Pharaoh? That’s impossible… (Y/N) never spoke directly to the Pharaoh, or maybe if she had to present or give some information about a textile. She just assisted her father in his task so she couldn’t imagine getting herself noticed or, even worst, being seen as someone disrespectful to the royal family. And ruin all her father’s business.

But the Pharaoh has, in fact, an intriguing personality. (Y/N) could sometimes feel his eyes on her when she was displaying textiles, while her father kept explaining all the details and features. Or he would just call her and ask her to come closer to “see the textiles better”. Of course it was not the textiles he was looking at.

‘(Y/N), we are here.’

As waking up in the middle of a dream, (Y/N) gets a grip of herself and they in fact arrived. She can’t even remember passing near the guards at the entrance.

Come on, (Y/N). Breath in…. And out…

Her father put the barrow next to the entrance archway that leads to the throne room. He picks some textiles, keeps them under his arm and starts to walk inside the Palace.

‘Father, I err… I think I will stay outside a bit. I-I got a bit hot when walking so I will join you… A bit later…’ mumbles (Y/N) while playing with her thumbs.

‘Are you sure? Do you want me to ask some water to the Phara-‘

‘No! no no no, don’t worry, father… R-Really, I just need to rest a little’ insists (Y/N), showing him a begging look.

‘If you insist, sweetheart… Sit in a shade place and do not hesitate to ask if you need something. You can join me when you feel better’ finishes her father slightly worried, but still left a kiss on her forehead. Deciding not to insist on it, he enters the Palace before glancing one last time at (Y/N) who, to reassure him, smiles and waves at him to go.

Finally alone, (Y/N) moves the barrow and places it in the shade of a jasmine tree. She decides to sit down on the sandy ground, back against the open side of the barrow and head lying of some textiles that make great pillows. She closes her eyes and empties her mind. The jasmine above her leaves a delicate perfume in the air, big palm trees swing there leafs with the wind and some birds sing in the distance. So calm. The breeze of the Nile is still refreshing the air, to (Y/N)’s pleasure. This oasis is a true haven of peace and nobody here to disturb her.

‘At least I will not see him today…’

‘I hope you’re not talking about me?’

(Y/N) jumps and lets out a squeal. She then brutally stops in her tracks of standing up because she loses her balance and lands with a chaotic “BOOM” in the middle of textiles in the barrow. And she hears that same voice chuckling at her. Its seems kind of familiar… That’s weird… Wait- When she finds her way out the piles of textiles – careful not to damage something – and is ready to stand up, she can’t believe who is in front of her.

‘I didn’t think you would be that fearful, (Y/N).’

No, that’s not possible…

Well it is?! Right in front of her eyes is the Pharaoh himself. He stands there, towering her, his torso puffed out and hands on his hips. Clearly (Y/N) couldn’t help admiring that true masterpiece. His naked and defined torso displays a pectoral collar made of golden slab, beautify with many gemstones such as lapis lazuli, cornelian and turquoise. His wrists, biceps and ankles adorn very large bracelets that look heavy just by watching them. About his costume, he wears a classic shendyt around his waist, extending to above the knees and hold by embroiled gold and blue belt. His sandals are similar to (Y/N)’s but more sophisticated with gemstones. Finally rests on his head his shiny khepresh on which the uraeus stays in the middle of his forehead like a third eye. (Here is a link of Tom’s outfit -> https://goopics.net/i/WLDoV)

And it is after a few seconds of total blank but mostly of delicious contemplation that (Y/N) comes back to her senses (again) and becomes aware of what is happening. Panicked, she throws herself at the Pharaoh’s feet.

‘I BEG YOUR PARDON, OH MY PHARA-‘

‘Calm down, (Y/N), no need to act like this!’ Laughs heartily the young king while looking at the trembling woman, forehead pressed against the ground. ‘Stand up, please.’

(Y/N) consents to his demand and begins to raise only her head but after another approving look of the Pharaoh, she stands on her two legs shaking the sand off her dress. She doesn’t dare to look at him in the eyes and her heart beats so hard it could jump out of her chest at any moment.

‘You are an emotional woman, (Y/N). Wait. Don’t move and close your eyes.’

What?

The Pharaoh moves his hand closer to (Y/N)’s face so she instinctively shuts her eyes, before she feels fingers brushing the remaining sand off of her forehand. When they gently slide on her cheek and disappear, she then opens her eyes and flutters her long eyelashes a few times.

‘There you go, you are as gorgeous as before.’

‘I-I, my Pharaoh Tutankha-‘

The aforesaid Tutankhamun interrupts her by putting his index on her plump lips.

‘I already told you to call me “Tom” when we are alone.’ Another quirkiness of his. ‘And please forget about “my king”, “my Pharaoh” and other honorific titles, it makes me feel so much older than I look like…’ whines “Tom”.

He is still a child.

‘… As you wish, “Tom”’ answers (Y/N) with a simple but humble nod, smiling. Then she asks ‘My father is already inside the Palace to display our textiles, shouldn’t you be there?’

‘I told Mother to do the job today because I wanted to get some fresh air…’ He sigh before adding ‘… At least I got the opportunity to be in your company.’

And here is the smooth Pharaoh again.

‘I’m sure your concubines would appreciate your presence even more if you join them…’

‘Pff, they are not really useful to me besides-‘

‘With all due respect, Tom, these kind of details don’t concern me. At all’ suddenly interrupts (Y/N), looking away with displeasing eyes just by the thought of him being… Intimate with ALL these DIFFERENT women.

Stay calm (Y/N), don’t lose it.

There is a heavy silence between them and Tom doesn’t waste time to break it. ‘Excuse me, (Y/N)… It didn’t mean to broach this subject…’ He corrects himself while scratching the back of his neck, feeling a bit awkward and calling himself stupid in his head. And that is when (Y/N) could notice some strands of hair poking out his headgear. In fact she also notes that its way too forward on his forehead.

‘If you will allow me, Tom…’ She steps closer, stretching her arms out to finally grab his headgear between her head. ‘Your khepresh moved… I will arrange it.” And (Y/N) replaces it the right way. She decides not to mention about the adorable rebellious hair, choosing to gaze at them when he will not look.

Unconsciously, (Y/N)’s hands leave Tom’s headgear to slide and slowly caress his face, ending their way on his jawline.

Her hands are soft for a weaver… So soft, thoughts Tom, lost in his countless dreams and fantasies.

‘Thank you, (Y/N).’

When (Y/N) is aware of her action, she hurries to take away her hands but the young Pharaoh is faster and catches them back, his grasp firm but at the same time gentle.

‘These hands can create many beautiful textiles… I wonder what other wonderful things they could do for me…’

He brings her hands up to leave kisses on them. (Y/N)’s cheeks turn as red as she got sunburned. His eyes oh my his eyesstare deep in her soul, full of such desire that (Y/N) couldn’t think of something to say. She is like hypnotized, captivated by this man’s handsome figure and unctuous words.

‘C-Come on, Tom… Don’t say-’

‘Yes (Y/N), I insist… You are much more precious to me than you can imagine…’

Hands intertwined, they never look away. They stare hungrily at each other, like they could devour a one in front of them with the eyes. The only sound heard is the ibis flying over the gigantic garden to go to the Nile. How could (Y/N) even think about THE Pharaoh of Egypt himself being so interested in her, daughter of traders-weavers? And yet, Tom couldn’t look away or even think about doing so.

Is this a sign from Hathor, Goddess of love?

‘Follow me (Y/N), let’s have a walk around the oasis’ proposes Tom and before waiting for any answer, he drags her with him and goes down the stairs that leads to the Palace gardens. (Y/N) doesn’t even protest, she already knows that nothing can stop the young Pharaoh when he has an idea in mind.

Once they arrive in the oasis – that is a private place only reserved to the Royal Family – and walk for a bit, they stop in front of a huge pond liven up with tones of aquatic plants, fishes and birds. Rows of acacia and jasmine trees surround it, as if to hide the pond from curious eyes, but some sunrays continue to reflect on the clear water coming from the Nile nearby.

Astonished, (Y/N) gets close to the pond, full of life, while slowly letting loose on Tom’s grasp. He lets her go without a word and admires her in a loving way. He wishes he could keep this delightful image engraved in his mind until he dies: this woman with a goddess’ aura, the sun warming her impeccable skin and her hair dancing like her dress in rhythm with the wind and the leafs.

I want to make her mine.

Then (Y/N) turns and calls out to the Pharaoh ‘Tom, come see how beautiful the fishes are!’

In a snap (don’t you dare laugh at that word), the young king joins her at the water’s edge. He perfectly knows all species in the oasis, fishes included, but every second is a chance to be with the one he secretly loves so much. Once next to (Y/N), Tom wraps an arm around her hips and embraces her. Both of them, one head laying on the other, admire the exotic fishes shaking and splashing everywhere in the pond.

But in reality Tom and (Y/N) look at their reflection in the water. Both reflections, standing together, bodies interlacing lovingly.

And in a whisper Tom takes his chance ‘(Y/N), please, be my Queen.’

(Y/N) bits the inside of her cheek because it is like her dreams comes true, little by little but still is.

And stopping herself from laughing she answers ‘First, you get rid of the tones of kohl around your eyes and then of all your harem.’

‘Isn’t it more important to start with the girls and then the kohl?’

And (Y/N) couldn’t stop herself anymore and lets out a heartily laugh. Her answer is silly, his answer is also silly. But this entire situation is even sillier that (Y/N) could imagine. And Tom of course joins her and laughs.

‘No, first the kohl because there is too much of it and because I like looking at your eyes all natural.’

‘You’re right. Actually this thing is such a pain that my eyes get irritated at the end of the day’ huffs Tom blinking exaggeratedly his eyes at (Y/N) while approaching his face of hers, looking like a crazy man. (Y/N) doesn’t stop to laugh at him. And she impresses herself and dares to leave a kiss on the corner of his mouth, which gets him by surprise.

‘And then I want those girls out of here, and after we can discuss about this Queen thing’ murmurs (Y/N) still close to his lips.

‘Don’t tempt me (Y/N), I might get a bit too excited and do all that just for you’ adds seductively Tom brushing his lips against hers, while smirking.

‘Aren’t you the Pharaoh?’

‘I sure am the Pharaoh of Egypt, love…’

And all of the sudden Tom lifts (Y/N), making her leave her a surprised squeal, and carries her bride style. Now he can’t hold anymore and kisses her straight on the lips and they both savor this moment.

‘… And I will show you now.’

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[whetstonefires]

While i was rifling thru your fic tag like a half-starved raccoon in a cake tin I found your clone Damian's fic & i'm in LOVE! And like, do u hav anymore meta on that verse? like how do the rest of the fam find out? how do they REACT?! how does Damian? does the heretic clone still exist? Just reading abt tim with a bunch of tiny dami's gave me heart palpitations. Thank you for this gift.

(In reference to this post.)

Why thank you!

It’s vaguely inspired by some meta @cerusee and @audreycritter did about what if Damian was one of several identical clones, but I’ve been fascinated by the character potential suggested by Damian having been cloned since Talia first revealed it, so.

Let’s see.

I don’t think the Heretic still exists, not in the form we saw. This story fragment sort of assumes Talia went less crazy than they made her for the whole Leviathan storyline; she doesn’t regard the clones as sons the way she does Damian (she totally relied on cloning to get him perfectly matched organ replacements, like that spine) but she’s not “sons are born to die in battle” “let’s grow him big inside a WHALE” levels of whacked out.

She hasn’t fully committed to having them compete to be selected as the official Damian #2, either, because she’s still attached to the original, though the growing prospect of that was a lot of the reason they ran for it. One of them might have wound up as the Heretic, in another timeline? But it was a timeline that diverged long before they fled the League.

So they make it to Tim’s emergency van without being intercepted, and get as far as his secure site on city limits, but they have to fight their way through the last leg of that trip and to make it inside the bunker, and it’s supplied for a siege but not really big enough for eight people, even if seven of them are small, and also staying there and being besieged would draw the attention of the Bats, which defeats the whole purpose of not making for the Cave/calling reinforcements.

So he calls his friends for extraction, and they all wind up in Kansas.

Tim puts off contacting the family until the clones have with his guidance sorted out exactly how they want to present themselves.

Unfortunately, the last stage of the ninja battle was showy enough not to be overlooked, so his absence was noticed much sooner than he expected, and regarded as more worrying. On the second day Dick calls Kon to see if he knows where Tim’s gotten to, and Kon fails to lie adequately.

Dick can’t pressure Kon as easily as he can most people because last time he asked Kon for a favor Kon came to the North Pole and died for him.

Which is the kind of thing even Nightwing isn’t veteran enough not to take seriously.

But he still calls his bluff and asks a bunch of questions, and winds up very suspicious and worried, so at this point Tim and the Damians have to hurry up and figure out how to announce the situation or go on the run from the Bats as well as the League, which would be. Not smart.

Tim explains the situation over videochat with the Cave before having the cloneboys join him on the feed; this spares them the worst of the yelling.

Bruce, Dick, and Damian all respond pretty badly. Bruce because he doesn’t like change and he’s reflexively suspicious, and having eight Damians to raise is a justly horrifying notion. Also anti-clone prejudice. It’s unfortunately an established trait of his, though not like. A strong one.

Dick because he’s really defensive of Damian, and perceives this first and foremost as an emotional threat to his bab’s fragile identity.

Damian because he knows exactly how he was raised to react to someone being in a place he wants, and he knows how many opportunities his father’s household policies gave him to take shots at Tim, and they may be six years old but there are seven of them. He is going to die.

All things considered, Damian’s being the most rational here.

He’s wrong though. The clones were raised as disposable ninjas, not princes; they’re perfectly well aware killing him would gain them nothing, and they have very little sense of entitlement.

Bruce and Dick do try to be nice to the kids once it’s finally settled they will be staying at the Manor at least for a bit, because they need to be somewhere safe and Bruce can’t leave them at Clark’s house forever. Even Ma Kent has her limits.

But Bruce blows bewilderingly hot and cold and Dick kind of makes a point of of not being too warm to them, because he’s loyal to his demon brat. Damian starts staying at his place a lot and consequently working with Nightwing instead of Batman.

Bruce has no idea what to do about this or if he even should do something. Damian’s thirteen, right? Teenagers are supposed to rebel??? This is a pretty harmless way to do that?

But he misses him.

This does lead to making more time for the Seven Identical Six-Year-Olds.

Their sense of morality revolves around having made the breakthrough to valuing on another’s lives; they aren’t as opposed to not-murder as Damian was but they’re also a lot harder to coax into seeing things his way because they don’t need as much from him, emotionally.

This makes them ironically less terrifying for Bruce, even if he’s still having trouble actually bonding with them the way he normally does with his kids.

Barbara meanwhile is cautious. She always takes a while to warm up to new people, and she doesn’t have Tim’s history with clones to get her over that speedbump. She tries very hard to be fair, but she’s not really welcoming. She’s Reserving Judgment.

Jason thinks this is the funniest thing ever and goes out of his way to tease Damian about it. Privately he’s super creeped out, but as that wears off he starts getting mad about Bruce and Dick making the kiddos feel unwelcome and at some point does a rant, and after that is vaguely protective in a useless sort of way.

He enjoys being a bad influence. The septuplets also enjoy this. They think he’s funny, too, and he’s easier to communicate with than most people around here. Achieves a fairly high tier on the Favorite Non-Clone Brother list they aren’t exactly keeping.

Cass is super about these kids. She can relate to them even more than to Damian, because they weren’t raised as heirs to anything and don’t have the sneering put-down form of pride going, and also she’s actually around to meet them at the crucial getting-to-know-you stage.

She thinks sparring one-on-seven is an excellent sibling bonding activity. There are assassin-child puppy piles once they’re all worn out. Many photos are taken.

She’s doing much better than Bruce at getting them to extend their nascent sense of empathy beyond one another, without actually making an effort. It’s not like they’re actually much behind their cohort when it comes to social development, they’ve just got murder conditioning flattening their affective empathy. (And are ahead of cohort intellectually, which contributes a lot to the dissonance.) Cass’ accidental therapy involves butterflies.

Tim continues to be around, a lot more than he has been for a while because he’s kind of obligated to see this through. The septuplets trust him, which is more than they do anybody else for a while, so he winds up with a lot of childcare duties.

Since this amounts to ‘showing them where to find soap’ and ‘being in their vicinity’ rather than i.e. brushing their teeth for them and making sure they don’t steal each others’ snacks, he’s fairly okay with this.

Sizdahum sticks especially close, which is fine because he’s not a big talker; he winds up getting a lot of absent lessons on detective work.

Tim gets yelled at for having murder scene photos open in front of him; both of them and Haftum, who happens to be there at the time, roll their eyes a lot throughout.

Tim’s friends also visit the Manor a few times specifically to visit the kids, since they already met them. At one point the Damian clones, Tim, Kon, Wonder Girl Cassie, and due to rumor mill Anita, Cissie, and Greta all have a picnic in a rare afternoon of sunshine on the Manor grounds.

Alfred packed the picnic so it has ludicrously expensive cheese, a fruit salad featuring freshly pitted cherries, and thermoses of milkshakes in the favorite flavors of everyone who got one, even the ones he’s never met before. In response to this bounty Anita threatens to come to visit every time she can get babysitters for her parents.

Then she considers introducing her parents to the clone kids. They’re turning out almost as weird, even if in theory they don’t remember their previous lives. We’ll see how that turns out.

Bruce got used to how all his sons’ friends know his secret identity over a decade ago, it’s…fine.

Steph thinks they’re creepy but she’s far enough from ground zero to laugh about it, especially about their occasional appearances as Tim’s row of ducklings, and also she trusts Cass’ judgment.

Everyone does, to a certain extent; it helps the septuplets’ cause incredibly over the course of the first few weeks. It wins Alfred off the fence about them after about three days, which is quite a coup; even before that he was fast catching up with Tim in the ‘learning the differences between the septuplets’ sweepstakes.

(Cass is the only one who can even semi-reliably tell them all apart if they’re not wearing their nametags, or catch them switching, but learning things like their individual preferences in weaponry or cake is arguably much more important.)

Speaking of names, it’s a difficult issue. Bruce would (with considerable angst and self-doubt) be willing to name them all if asked, and they’d probably be open to it if he offered, but they’re not quite comfortable naming themselves and he’s too insecure and weirded-out to suggest anything else.

The other members of the family are varying degrees of not okay with the numbering system. Steph’s main issue with it is she has trouble remembering them precisely, because she doesn’t speak Farsi and learning seven unfamiliar similar-sounding words at the same time doesn’t play to her strengths.

Damian has a tendency to call them by their numbers in English, which only some of the clones actually mind but it offends the hell out of Bruce.

The necessity of keeping them secret until they have actual public-ready names and a story has been settled on wears on everyone’s nerves a bit. The issue that there exists no story more believable than the actual extremely weird truth stands in the way.

Barbara actually crafts an entire cover about rescuing the products of an illegal cloning operation by people planning an overly complicated ransom scheme for Damian, and Bruce going ‘well dammit they’re my kids too,’ which doesn’t get deployed for a while because:

1) everyone’s still hunting for something a little less weird and

2) they have to review the entire body of legal precedent relating to clones to make sure this won’t put the kids in jeopardy down the line or undermine Bruce’s chances of getting custody somehow.

Meanwhile, Bruce absolutely forbids the clone squad from getting involved in vigilante fighting. Because they are six. They’re not quite on house arrest but they have strict supervision and a curfew. They mostly accept this; they’re used to discipline and they did come here for refuge.

He tries to take away all their live weapons. Because they are six. This fails to stick. It threatens to become a serious bone of contention.

Cass, Tim, and Damian (somewhat unwillingly) wind up having to broker the issue; explaining to Bruce that the kids think he suspects them of plotting murder, and to the kids that Bruce doesn’t think they can be trusted not to hurt themselves with sharp objects is. Fraught. On all sides.

Why does Bruce never get any kids for whom normal responsible parenting guidelines are fully applicable?