#it didn't seem like that much time passed but suddenly he was a toddler....

[softgrungeprophet]

Often there is a lot of talk about the way that media, often videogames and comics, as the creators come of age having been raised on that media and themselves start having children—these mediums then see an increase in the Father-Child dynamic, often father-daughter

Which is true

And on the surface you could probably apply that to both Agent Venom from Bunn-Shalvey on (and I do believe Andi was likely partially inspired by Bunn's own son), or to Scarlet Spider (2012)

HOWEVER

Both of these have an interesting facet that imo is less present in games, partly due to the very ongoing nature of cape comics.

I mean, 1) neither are actually fathers and both girls are already around 16 or 17 when they first meet their mentors

and 2) the mentor characters having a multi-decade history lends a specific nuance to these narratives.

Flash Thompson actually has a decently established history of working with kids, whether troubled or disadvantaged youth or just as a teacher, from his 20s onward, and this may have been to reflect his troublemaking behavior as a teen even before it was established that he had a troubled upbringing.

So from like the 80s (ish?) onward, Flash is taking these steps to work with youth, and continues to do that for a long time, as well as various other jobs helping people, like EMT, etc. Obviously he also gets drafted (and I think removal of that context serves the character poorly)

Basically, Flash is doing these kinds of jobs and volunteer work, working with kids who are like he was, often simultaneously working to end the cycle of abuse and escape the shadow his father left over him. He is working to be the kind of adult he needed in his life and didn't have, much as his mother tried her best (but was obviously also being victimized)

So Flash mentors Andi from this angle, as the Coach he needed, as the coach she needs in these moments, dealing with her father's death, and so on, but most of his work being that adult is not actually specific to Andi but in a broader sense related to his jobs as a gym teacher, volunteer boxing coach, etc. None of them are him or paralleled to him strictly speaking, but he is still working to be the mentor-figure that he needed growing up, a protector who can offer guidance.

Kaine was also abused by a father figure, as well as treated as an object to be discarded. He finds Aracely, treated as an object to be discarded (in a pile of bodies, left for dead, etc.) He tries to be detached and impartial, but he's Kaine, so he can't, and even more so he sees himself in her in a visceral way, so he saves her and takes her under his wing in this almost sibling-esque mentorship.

It is not that Kaine lacks a sibling-figure in his life, of course. He does have Ben, and Ben is one of the few people who ever showed him true kindness (at least, once). But that's not the point of their relationship, right? The main crux of Scarlet Spider (2012) is that Kaine Is Aracely and Aracely Is Kaine and Kaine is all of these brutalized girls, and all of these brutalized girls are Kaine. In the same way that Kaine and Janine (in the 90s) are mirrored reflections, down to having similarly spelled names and similar hair colors and so on.

It's that Kaine is this girl's protector now, her champion, because he has to be, he can't not, even when he is monstrous, and when you get down to the mental link and the parallels it just furthers this protector role and it's like...

Kaine, who has never known safety in his life, who has been shown so few moments of compassion, let alone of protection, is here, with this 16 year old girl, being for her what he never had and which he still needs so badly. (a protector)

So, like Flash being a mentor for Andi and in general consciously working to help teens and youths who, like him, need a supportive adult in their life, you also have Kaine who is working subconsciously to protect Aracely and the others who are treated as discardable objects because he never had anyone to save him and he needed it so badly.

Again, working to be what he never had, but in a more emotionally intimate and specific way, because while Flash works more broadly with teens and tweens in general, with Andi as a part of that, but doesn't necessarily look at Andi and say "She is me," Kaine is mostly specifically linking himself to young women and girls, some as young as 12, who are victims of human trafficking and sexual abuse, arguably because he sees himself directly in them (because he is essentially a victim of human trafficking by being created as an object to be owned and controlled)

Kaine hones in very closely on Aracely as a mirror of himself, down to echoed phrases (save me) and self-projection (extremely literally, when she feels his physical pain) (and then what a monster he is), and he expands his protector role from her as the center of his purpose, whereas Flash works with Andi more as a part of a whole, or more as like... Well, literally as partners, in addition to mentor and mentee, rather than as champion and ward.

(Though it is also fair to point out that Peter and Ben both influenced Kaine in his protector role, especially since Kaine so recently took Peter's lecture in Grim Hunt to heart, but I still am of the opinion that a lot of his behavior after sacrificing himself in Grim Hunt has mostly been driven by an inner ego (which I do not mean in a negative way) to save these people in a way he specifically was not saved, repeatedly dying in the place of others both before and after GH, and so on, where he is the people he protects and they are him.)

Interestingly, Peter also reflects similar themes at times, but it is less rooted in a mentorship (which I suppose would be Miles, in this case) and more rooted in his broader behavior, but which also varies pretty significantly depending on the comic.

I personally noted it while reading the final issue of the Jenkins/Ramos Spectacular Spider-Man run from 2003 ish. Because there is this scene that kind of plays into some recent comics, including previous issues in the run arguably (though maybe unintentionally), which is a dream sequence and some reminiscing about Peter's stage fright as a child.

It culminates in, essentially, two separate moments. One is the current adult Peter cowering, nude in his dream, while he is menaced by various villains from his gallery of enemies. They threaten him verbally and physically box him in, but their threats only allude to whatever horrible things they're going to do to him. Nothing is said about what it will be, only how bad it will be.

(And I have thoughts on this and the gradual accumulation between the 80s and late 2010s of scenes involving Peter being sexually harassed, and on the extra-canonical comic Spider-Man and Power Pack #1, where he is given a backstory in which an older boy sexually assaults him)

The other scene, the ending scene where he triumphs over his nightmare and stage fright both, Peter is in costume as Spider-Man, bowing with his child self (and interestingly, some of his villains, smiling as well)

And that struck me as a very interesting representation of Spider-Man specifically being, quite literally, the protector of his child self, or really just the protector of himself in general.

I think it's interesting because Peter also works with children, teaching, etc. but compared to Flash I never got quite the same vibes of him acting as a mentor for children in a way he lacked—because despite being an orphan, he didn't lack that, right? He had Uncle Ben to offer advice until he was 16, and he had a teacher who worked to help him be his best, and so on and so forth, so he's not strictly trying to be what he didn't have.

But I do think it's interesting to juxtapose the way in which Peter utilizes the mask as a form of self-protection not just for his child self but for himself in a broader sense. It is in many ways a barrier and in some ways a detriment and he often harms himself, sometimes on purpose, and lacks a lot of healthy coping mechanisms, but ultimately he acts in this defensive way and has for a long time, and he also like... applies this so broadly to so many people, with this crazy guilt complex, where every single person he meets is a universe unto themselves and must be protected at all costs, even if he can barely stand (unless they do bad, at which point the defensiveness reverses), which is presumably itself rooted in his ongoing trauma of loss, from toddlerhood to adulthood (parents, uncle, Gwen, etc.)

Also interesting since he is like, pretty paternalistic as a person, not only to children but to his close friends, and like... really strongly reflects his aunt and uncle's worldviews and views on what is just and right, etc. so in some ways he is not the father he didn't have, but rather the parental figures he did have, while also still being this larger-than-life figure that his child self did not have around to protect him necessarily but was still present the entire time, latently (see Peter Parker: The Spectacular Spider-Man #172)

("Six of them, one of me— and the camp counselors had to pull me away from them.")

Externalizing an ideal protector figure from his internal self, in some ways. (He and Kaine are very alike.)

I don't have an ending paragraph, which was always the hardest part of essays for a person who usually ends fiction in the middle of a scene, but I do think it's fascinating to compare these three kinds of "being the adult they needed as a child" angles, all similar but distinct — because there is Flash, who is focused on mentorship and being the kind of guiding and supportive figure he needed as a troubled teen with a difficult home life, mostly working with teens, and less in an egocentric or self-reflecting way — and there's Kaine who is deeply and intimately connected to all of his parallels, embodying them almost directly, and who acts as a protector having never been protected himself, but does not act in a paternal or particularly guiding way necessarily — and then you have Peter who is similar to Kaine in being rooted in the Self, yet in a more communal (and often paternalistic) way, by protecting himself and also by protecting everyone else around him to an almost obsessive extent...

In summary, I just think they're neat, and also it's like, interesting the way it differs from the more standard "Dad and Kid" plots that pop up in games or media with less of a history behind the characters

[extremelyblackandwhite]

Could you maybe possibly do a Bucky X single mum reader? Maybe he doesn't know she's a mum thinks she's ghosting him and then bumps into her and said child or something maybe some angst smut fluff the whole shebang

Bucky was officially done with dating.

He had felt this quite a few times but never had he decided to put an end to dating in the modern day until now. Things had been going great, he didn't even think she would've accepted to go on a date with him yet she did and after that, there wasn't a single moment where he wasn't thinking of her or with her. She was sweet, smart and didn't seem to mind about his past as the Winter Soldier or the metal arm that was blatantly visible to anyone if he took his gloves off. He was finally happy, in a healthy relationship, or at least he thought so.

A week ago things had gone radio silent, there were no texts, he didn't see her at her usual coffee spot and whenever he tried calling, it would go to voice mail time and time again. It had finally hit him that she had just "ghosted" him as Sam called it. Maybe he was right, yet not in the common sense, instead he felt haunted. Haunted by her touch, by her memory and even by the stupid cookies she used to buy. The same stupid cookies he was staring at right now.

      - Can I get these? - a toddler jumped up and down next to him. It was a girl, at least Bucky thought it was a girl based on the high pitched voice. He only looked at the toddler when she pulled on the leg of his trouser, finally forcing him to look at her. - Sir, please can you pass me the cookies?

He shrugged, easily grabbing the box and handing it to the girl who went off running to the legs of a woman, a woman who looked too familiar, a woman who looked almost terrified when she saw Bucky. Honestly, Bucky wasn't even sure who was more terrified if her or him.

      - Bucky. - she said as she walked up to him. - Listen, I ...

      - That's fine. - he interrupted her. - You don't have to say hi to me.

      - No, I just ... I need to explain things.

      - I'd rather avoid the whole "it's not you, it's me" discussion. You know, you could've at least sent me a text instead of ghosting me.

      - Ghosting? No, no, you don't understand. I've been busy and ...

      - For a whole week? Clearly you're not busy enough to be perusing the supermarket.

      - Perusing? I'm just getting groceries, I forgot I couldn't if I didn't text you.

      - Oh so you do know how to text. - Bucky knew he was being mean now but he was hurt. There were may voices in his head which were making him feel like a loser, make him feel like just the Winter Soldier yet he also knew that was no reason to insult her so before he could say something he would regret, he walked away.

Technically, he had now ghosted her as well but she'd done it first so it wasn't as heavy in his mind. At least not as heavy as the idea that the girl he liked so much had suddenly stopped wanting to see him. Many things were going through his mind about what could've caused it, he didn't see another man with her at the store so it potentially wasn't one so his mind was forcing him to face the fact that he was probably the reason. Who would want to date a murderer, the Winter Soldier? No one.

      - Did you bring my milk? - Steve asked as he skimmed through the groceries. - Bucky?

      - I saw Y/N in the shop. - he sat down. - And I was a dick to her. Basically ran off with whatever I had in my cart.

      - Hold on. - Steve said as he sat next to him. - You saw her? What did you say?

      - Stupid shit.

Steve rolled his eyes. Bucky was his best friend, they had known each other since forever and he wasn't against taking his friend's side even if he knew he may be slightly wrong. Yet, in this case, he knew Bucky probably was acting out from hurt and that usually wasn't pretty or nice to hear. It was quite vicious actually, sometimes he forgot how vicious Bucky could be.

      - I don't know what you said but maybe you should apologise.

      - Probably. - he sighed. - Yet again I think she was getting ready to give me a pity speech and I'd rather not listen to it.

      - Do you like this girl? - Bucky stayed silent at this. Of course he liked her, she was all he could think about at night, she was the sun the moon and the stairs for all he cared. But she didn't want him, what else would be the reason for her to suddenly go cold on him. - You've lived for a whole century, Buck. Go talk to her and find out what it is instead of sulking.

(...)

Bucky already regretted this.

As he stood outside her apartment door, he wondered if he was a complete creep. He felt like one, waiting for someone to open the main door so he could get into the building with the sad flowers he'd bought hoping they would convince Y/N not to close the door in his face. Once more, he stared at the golden number on her door before sighing and knocking. He heard quick footsteps before the door knob was slowly twisted and the door opened. The same toddler who he had seen in the market opened the door.

      - Hi! - she said looking at him as if he was her oldest friend.

      - Uh ... Is Y/N here?

      - Meredith, who are you talking you? - he heard Y/N's voice echo through the apartment until she appeared at the door. - Bucky.

      - Hi. - he cleared his throat.

      - Mere, go inside. - Y/N ushered her daughter back inside, closing the door behind her.

Bucky stared at Y/N in both awe and confusion. Who was that toddler? Was it hers? She did look a look like Y/N and he had seen both of them at the supermarket as well. Did Y/N have a kid?

      - She's mine. - Y/N said noticing the doubt on his face. - I had her senior year of college. She's 4.

      - Why ... uh ....

      - She's 4, she doesn't really understand relationships and I don't want to bring anyone into her life that may leave. I also usually struggle to date when I tell guys I have a 4 year old ... I should've told you, I'm sorry.

      - And the ghosting?

      - I wasn't ghosting. - she crossed her arms. - Mere had the chicken pox and I had to stay home with her. I was gonna text you but I thought this ... this would be a better conversation to have in person.

      - Ah ... - he scratched the back of his neck. - I was an asshole at the supermarket, wasn't I?

      - That depends ... are those flowers for me? - she smirked.

      - Yes. - he extended his arm towards her handing her the flowers. Marigolds, her favourite. - They look a bit sad though.

      - They look perfect. - she smiled at him. - Wanna come in?

(...)

Bucky stirred awake in the couch as he heard a soft rustling following by breathing. He peaked his eye open to see Meredith staring at him with wide eyes before she poked his cheek with her finger.

      - Mr. Bucky? Can you make me pancakes?

He could get used to this.

[strangemaleswaps]

Strange Job Swap

“Oh it's beautiful!” exclaimed the customer waiting in line. I handed her a nicely decorated cake for her son's birthday.

“It's no big deal. Just doing my job.” I acted like it was no big deal, but really I was gladly accepting the praise!

“This is perfect though. Have you considered being an artist?” she replied with a slightly more serious look.

“Yes I have actually…but the job market is tough.”

“Aww you'll get there eventually! Don't give up! Well anyway, you made my day so for that, thank you!”

“You're welcome.” I was a bit sad though, because she was right; I SHOULD be an artist. I recently earned my bachelor's degree, but yet I was still stuck in this dumb hick town, working as a grocery store cake decorator. I may have been good at what I do but I wouldn't want to do it forever!

At least my co-workers are pretty decent, especially my fellow bakery buddies, Chase, Amber, and Domingo. Amber was cool and didn't take anyone’s shit, which is why I loved seeing her because I didn't have much confidence when dealing with unruly customers. Domingo was very sweet, and even though he didn't speak very good English, he's hella good at his job. And Chase, well…he's hot! His bleach blond hair somehow always caught the light at a perfect angle. I don't know how I even kept my focus when he's working next to me.

At the end of my shift, I clocked out, and decided to buy a couple groceries like I normally did. I scanned everything at the self-checkout, put the receipt into one of my bags, and started walking towards the exit. The store had 2 exits on either side of the front, but I only took one because the other had a certain asshole at it - Richard.

The greeter position was removed a long time ago, but they bring it back for employees that have been injured or are too old, so that they can keep their jobs. Now this old guy named Richard had surgery a long time ago and became the greeter while he recovered. But yet he never went back to his old position.

He always stays at one specific entrance, and the reason I hated him so much was because he's racist. Part of his job has him checking customers’ receipts to make sure they didn't steal anything, which seems pretty unnecessary when you have those anti-theft machines at the exit. But I've seen him. The only people he checks the receipts for are minorities. It's not a subtle thing either; he’s super friendly, greeting and saying goodbye to all the white people passing but when it comes to someone who's not, his demeanor suddenly changes. 

My luck must've run out today, because I found the sliding glass doors at my usual exit were broken and currently being fixed. The area was blocked off by a barricade, and I knew there was only one other way to leave. I headed over to the other exit, and there Richard was, waving goodbye to a white mother and her toddler. He was wearing his typical gray uniform shirt that was clearly too small, because you could see his gut and nipples trying to poke through. Gross.

I moved through the aisle, trying not to draw attention to myself, but it was all for nothing because right on cue, Richard walked up to me and gave a great big (and so obviously fake) smile.

“Hello sir, can I see your receipt please?”

“Richard, it's me, Marco. I work in the bakery. You've seen me a million times before.” His smile suddenly faded, and his eyes narrowed, as if every ounce of happiness in his body just vanished.

“That's no excuse. How do I know you aren't stealing?”

“Because I want to keep my job?”

“Don't backtalk to me. You seem awfully suspicious today.” He then reached for his walkie talkie and started to page a manager. I really was able to walk out with no repercussions because I truly didn't steal anything, but there's a chance he would page the Asset Protection lady, who was almost as awful.

“Hello? Is anyone there?” Nobody answered him. Thank god.

“Am I free to go now?” I said happily. The anger returned to his face.

“Just don't let me catch you stealing again. Or there'll be consequences!”

“Yeah…suuuure.” I walked out the door, into my car, and back home. I can't believe some people honestly. I was so sick of this town! I needed to move away real soon.

When I got home my dog, Kenny, was excited to greet me as usual so I let him outside to do his business while I got into my running clothes, prepping for a run. As I let Kenny back in, I went to check the mail and found a weird envelope in between the bills and spam. I opened it up and it was a letter addressed “to whom it may concern”. I threw it away without a second thought but Kenny suddenly ran up to the trash can, took it out, and placed it back in front of me.

“You really want me to read this, don't you boy?” I said cheerily as I patted him on the head.

“To whom it may concern,

Are you struggling with your current job? Unhappy with the life you have? Well I have just the cure for that! We are now selling happiness inducing coins for only $1 with free shipping! One flip of this coin will guarantee you will soon get a job you love! Get it fast before it all runs out! Just follow the link on the back of this letter if you are interested.” - VV

I wondered who or what VV was supposed to be, and $1 with free shipping sounds too good to be true, so this seemed like a scam. I also wasn't a superstitious person,  but for some reason my gut was telling me that this was a good idea. Kenny seemed to think so too as he was wagging his tail under the table and I read. I followed the link listed on the back of the page, typing in each random letter and number combination into my phone and ordered the lucky coin. I went to bed that night feeling a little more hopeful.

The next day at work was just like the previous day, only the door was fixed so I didn't have to walk out the exit Richard was standing at. We did make eye contact though, and he shot me a dirty look. I got home to find that the package had already arrived, which was awfully quick. I cut open the box and inside was a golden coin with a picture of a brain on it. The other side had a picture of a person with their arms spread wide. It was a really weird design. I read the instructions.

How to use:

Flip the coin

No matter what side it lands on, you'll be guaranteed happiness in your new job!

It sounded so lame, but I followed the instructions anyway. I flipped the coin the air, and slapped it on the back of my other hand. Tails. Nothing happened. I guess it was just $1 so it wasn't a huge waste of my time. It's pretty cool looking so maybe I could display it on my dresser or something.

I felt especially tired the rest of the night, but I was fine because I had a day off tomorrow. I was gonna go to the park with Kenny, as well as do a few errands. I was just glad I had time away from my job.

The next morning my alarm went off for some reason. I must've accidently set it by mistake. The weirder thing was Kenny wasn't there. Normally at the sound of my alarm, he comes running from wherever he was sleeping, and jumps on the bed to get me up. But there was nothing. When I started to truly wake up and become more alert, I realized that my alarm was set to the default or something. Instead of my usual calming piano, it was an annoying ringing. I opened my eyes to see what was happening. My vision was blurry, but I could tell I wasn't in my own room.

What happened? Did someone kidnap me? The alarm clock wasn't even on a phone, but rather it was an actual alarm clock. I had no idea what was going on, but I reached over to turn it off so I could think. I'm certain I must've been kidnapped somehow but why? And why would they set an alarm clock? I couldn't see but felt around the nightstand for a clue and found a pair of glasses. When I tried them on, just like that, my vision returned to normal. I had perfect vision before! Why did I suddenly need glasses? I reached up to scratch my head and found my hairline was incredibly receded. I was balding! I looked down with my now clear vision to find an even worse fact. I was chubby!

I sat up and stared at the foreign gut and two large man tits, as well as numerous graying chest hairs. I ran my hands through the hair, pinching them to make sure they were real. I pinched the tits as well, and felt sensations I've never felt before as they wobbled when I let go. I ran my hands through my face and felt a mustache and double chin, and began feeling nauseous at the thought of what I actually looked like. I didn't see a mirror in the room so I walked out the door trying to find a bathroom. The fat jiggled all around as I ran.

I got to the bathroom and nearly puked on the spot when I saw who I was. Richard. Oh god no. Of all people, I had to look like this racist bastard? I stared at myself and grazed my hands along my face. Suddenly I felt angry and started pinching it instead, as if I was doing the same thing to the real Richard, but denial didn't help; that was my face and it hurt. I touched his mustache and pinched it, as if it would come off. 

Just then I heard the doorbell ring. I didn't want to interact with anybody looking like this but until I figured out how to fix it, I knew I had to pretend to be Richard. I answered the door to find the mailman.

“Howdy Rich! Woah uh.” He stared at my chest. I forgot I was still shirtless. Having this much fat hanging from my body was almost like answering the door naked. “I see you've lost some weight!” he said, obviously lying.

“Oh uh, thanks.” I replied, trying to imitate Richard’s voice, which was pretty easy considering I've mocked him before.

“Well anyway, not much today; just a letter.” He handed me a letter with a purple stamp on it.

“Well uh see you tomorrow!” The mailman went on his way and I closed the door. I opened the letter and found a note similar to the lucky coin advertisement.

To whom it may concern,

Good morning! I trust that your lucky coin worked well? Welcome to your new life! As promised, you now have a job that you love. Unhappy with the results? Just flip the coin once again, and make sure it lands on what it landed on before! If not, however, your fate is sealed. Best Wishes! - VV, Venefica Viola

Shit. They're not lying though. Richard did love his job. And since I was in his body, I now had that job! But who is this Venefica Viola? It sounded like Latin somehow. I walked back to the bedroom to find Richard’s phone. Luckily he didn't have any lock screen pin so I could easily get in. I searched for a translator, dodging the random pop up ads that were everywhere on his phone and looked up Venefica Viola.

Violet Witch. So magic is involved somehow. I needed to get my coin back so I could undo this! It must still be at my own house. Shit! I just realized why the alarm clock went off. Richard worked today! He had perfect attendance and never uses his PTO, so not going in was gonna look suspicious. I glanced at the clock and realized I only had 20 minutes. 

Even though I'd love to see Richard be humiliated by going to work in his underwear, I decided that it wasn't worth attracting attention so I looked through his clothes to put on a work uniform. I found a pair of boxers and accidently flashed myself when I completely forgot I didn't have my own dick either. It was all wrinkly, but honestly a lot bigger than I thought. No. I was not about to get horny over Richard's dick! I found what he normally wore to work and put the rest on. I found tucking the shirt was more difficult than usual, as I had to pull it over my belly.

I guess I could make this work…for now. I hated to admit it, but Richard wasn't all that bad looking. It was his personality and habits that made him so repulsive, but now that I was in control of him, he didn't look all that bad. Maybe I could even turn things around for now and do something nice for the people I know he hates. I grabbed the car keys on the nearby table, and drove to work.

I walked in the store, put Richard's nametag on, and clocked in. I nearly started walking to the bakery area but stopped myself. I guess I'm really going to have to be a greeter for a day. This feels humiliating. I made my way to the front entrance and just stood there, waiting for customers to enter or exit.

Soon enough customers began arriving and I tried my best to act like Richard, though one customer asked if I was all right because I guess I overdid it. I didn't ask any customers to show their receipts though, because I might as well take advantage of being a greeter. I noticed Domingo at the checkout and when he bagged up his groceries, he approached me first instead of the door. He hastily grabbed his receipt and started showing it to me. I wasn't about to let this happen.

“No no it's ok. You don't have to show me the receipt anymore.”

“No?” He looked shocked.

“Checking receipts is stupid anyway. I don't need to do it anymore.”

“Really? I can go?”

“Yep! Have a good day.” It was unnerving seeing him so scared at the sight of me, but he smiled like normally did as he put the receipt back in the bag and walked out.

As I moved towards the break room to take my break, I noticed someone who looked awfully familiar walk through the door. It was…me! I mean Richard. It must've been; if I was in his body, he must've been in mine. It became more obvious by the way he was walking, taking big steps as if he was used to having his gut swinging around…like mine was now. God I hated this. I had to talk to him to sort things out. He smirked as I approached.

“Hey!”

“Oh it's you. I mean me. I mean,” he paused for a second and rounded his mouth into an even bigger smile, which looked uncanny with my face. “The old me.”

“What do you mean ‘the old you’”?

“Well seeing as I'm much younger now, while you're much older, I think the term is appropriate.”

“Well yeah, but not for long. I'm going to switch us back.”

“Oh no you're not! I may have preferred being white, but I’m enjoying youth again! Oh, and don't worry. I saw that coin thing and that letter this morning, and I made sure it would never see the light of day again. You got that…Richard?” 

He called me that in the same mocking tone that I always use to call him. I can't believe this!

“Y-you can't do this! I had a future!”

“That's my future now old man. You know maybe I could be a model with these looks. Maybe make one of those, what do you kids call it? OnlyFans?”

God no, I'm an artist, not a pornstar. He can't do this!

“The greeter is a real fun job, Richard. Enjoy it. You're hired!”

[gazzistt]

·˚ ༘₊· 𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐈 𝐒𝐈𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 🧘🏾‍♀️

itadori, sukuna and choso headcannon // here me out…all three of them as siblings. sukuna as the eldest, choso, then itadori.

notes┆︎i usually reference this au when writing my [ itadoriolderbrother! sukuna x reader ], so if you want to know more about that world refer to here :))

⊹˚∘ SUKUNA.

Sukuna grew up spoiled. SPOILED. Being the first and only child of Kaori and Jin at the time, they gave him everything he could ever want.

I like to think that Jin and Kaori were rich as hell. I'm talking about five estates all decked out in multiple traditional-style mansions. They had maids, butlers, attendants—everything!This is where Sukuna spent most of his time and can explain why he acts like he’s better than everyone later in life.

Sukuna was homeschooled for the beginning of his life, never having to mingle with regular people. He learned everything from the comfort of his home, attendants at his beck and call. It was here he learned etiquette, manners and basic liberal skills. Afterward, he was sent to the best schools in the country—his parents only wanting the best for him.

As Sukuna grew older he got a job at his father's company and found out that his parents made him the sole successor to ALL of their assets—only adding to his trust-fund nature.

Sukuna had a very close relationship with his parents, so much so that he was devastated when his mother died shortly after giving birth to Yuji.

This led to his more brutish nature, distancing himself from his father and baby Yuji, going off on a more crude path. He became rouge, got in trouble a lot more, and started fighting. Jin tried his hardest to rectify his behavior, but those attempts didn't seem to work out. So he let him be.

Jin soon found himself growing more weary and left Yuji in the care of his parents, Co-parenting with his father. But, shortly after that, Jin passed away.

Sukuna attended his funeral, and although he wasn't as devastated, it still hit him hard. His grandfather asked Sukuna to visit him and Yuji for some time, seeing as he now had custody over the children as their legal guardian.

However, Sukuna only fulfilled this request during Yuji’s toddler years. After that, Sukuna was as absent as could be. So absent, that Yuji forgot he even had an older brother.

It wasn’t anything personal, but Sukuna was too used to the luxurious lifestyle he grew up with. Their grandfather was a lot more…modest, more simple, more basic. And that was precisely the reason why he stopped showing up.

Sukuna only appeared again when his grandfather died, leaving Yuji without proper care. He decided to take guardianship of the boy and ‘rekindle’ their relationship. Although it was a bit of a daunting task considering he was absent for 16 years of his life. Whoops.

Nevertheless, Yuji eventually came around, the two of them growing close despite their constant bickering and opposing views. Sukuna was family after all.

Sukuna and Itadori lived in a condo in one of the most expensive neighborhoods in the area. Itadori didn’t realize it at the time, but his brother was insanely rich. Sukuna never really talked about it, and Itadori never wanted to hear anything about his parents—which Sukuna thought to be a shame, because he would never have the childhood that he did.

⊹˚∘ ITADORI.

Itadori didn’t know what to do when this random man suddenly claimed to be his brother. I mean, how does one even respond to that?

Eventually, Itadori had no choice to believe him. I mean, Sukuna looked exactly like him! It was almost like they were twins, except he had tattoos covering his face, was much older, and had much less face fat too.

It also helped that Itadori could remember Sukuna—faintly, but just enough to know that he met him a couple times in his life.

When it came to living with Sukuna, there were some…difficulties. I mean, he was arrogant, pretentious, and shameless—all the personality traits that made up the people Yuji hated. But Yuji learned how to tune out Sukuna’s voice, choosing not to let his temperament rub off on him.

For the most part Sukuna left him alone. He did have a job, after all. He would fly out for days at a time, coming back home only to chill in his room, and never coming out until he had someplace to be.

At that point Itadori practically made the home his own, the emptiness and barren design choices soon becoming occupied with color and random objects. Like the sudden appearance of a sleeping bag (?), a PS5, clothes, paintings, wallpaper—by the time Sukuna came back home he couldn't even recognize his own home!

“Hey you brat, what the hell did you do to my house?” Sukuna snarled, his briefcase dropping to the floor in his stupor.

“Oh! I thought you were supposed to come next week—”

“You thought?” Sukuna shakes his head, walking towards his brother who was sprawled out watching a movie on his couch. “What? We're you gonna paint my walls too?”

Needless to say, Yuji found himself sleeping outdoors that night.

Amidst the discourse, Yuji did appreciate the little moments he had with Sukuna. Like when he taught him how to fight!

Apparently, to Sukuna, Yuji had a lot of raw strength in him. Whatever that meant. Yuki couldn’t see it yet, but Sukuna insisted to step in to teach him how to punch.

“Kid, what enemies are you fighting?” Sukuna chuckles, throwing his head back with laughter. He just couldn't believe what he was seeing, his own brother—trying to throw a punch with the most dubious of forms.

“Shut it. I don't want to hear it from you.” Itadori tells him, continuing to shadow box in the middle of the living room. “If you don't have anything good to say, then don't distract me.”

Sukuna scoffs, throwing his hands up in his defense. “Whatever. I just can’t watch my doppelganger throw punk ass punches.”

Sukuna then gets up, stopping Itadori from…whatever he was doing. He stands in front of him and throws a punch, showing Itadori a visual of the perfect form.

“Hey, that looked solid!” Itadori said with newfound enthusiasm, bouncing around the room.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, that looked like it would connect!”

Sukuna simply smirks, shaking his head. Of course it looked like it would connect. He was the best fighter he knew—and there would be no way he’d let his little brother embarrass that title.

But the most weirdest moment that happened to Itadori by far was when he gained yet another brother.

⊹˚∘ CHOSO.

One day Itadori got into a little scuffle with some guys. Nothing too drastic—just a slight little altercation.

But, by the time Itadori came home, he was beaten and bruised—clearing losing the fight.

All Itadori knew was that he got absoulety wiped clean by an emo guy with black hair and dark circles. A bit embarrassing to say the least, but Itadori was so sure that he would never see that guy again.

Until…he did.

“You’re not Yuji.” Choso says flatly, eyebrows lifting in confusion.

“Yeah, I'm not.” Sukuna responds, just as confused. “Who the hell are you?”

Currently, Choso was standing outside the door of Sukuna’s condo—how he got there is unknown. All he knew was that his brother was in there and he had to see him.

“I’m Yuji’s brother.”

Sukuna stared blankly at him, a scoff leaving his lips. “The hell you are, that kid was the last one to pop out of my mom, that's for sure.”

“Oh, so you must be his brother? Well, I guess that makes us siblings as well.”

“Huh?”

Sukuna was thoroughly confused. Who the hell was this random ass kid? And why did he claim to be related?—he must be mental.

Sukuna couldn't deal with this so he called Yuji to clarify. That is when he revealed that this was the chump who beat him up.

Apparently, they beat each other so badly that Choso’s injuries led him to believe that Yuji was his brother.

And he was thoroughly convinced. Equipped with shared memories that only Sukuna and Itadori could have known.

Being a kind soul, Itadori decided that they should allow Choso to stay with them—just until he could regain his memories. Although it seemed unlikely, he believed that there really was a chance Choso could be related to them.

Sukuna, however, wasn't too pleased at this idea, since that merely resulted in another mouth to feed. Nonetheless, Choso began living with the brothers—an arrangement that soon became permanent.

Surprisingly, Choso fit in perfectly. Almost as if Sukuna and Itadori were missing a puzzle piece. He wasn’t loud like Itadori, nor was he pompous like Sukuna. He leaned more toward the reserved side, acting as a medium between the two extremes.

He would sometimes chill around the house, playing board games with Itadori and sometimes Sukuna—if he willed it. But the majority of his time is spent taking walks, reminiscing, and listening to music.

Choso‘s friends are kind of shady to be honest, always getting into altercations and trouble. But whenever Itadori expresses his distaste for one of them, he drops them immediately.

I just think Choso is such a family man, always putting their interests first. He is a firm believer of ‘blood is thicker than water.’ Always ready to protect his brothers of any harm should become them.

Thankfully, it hasn't come to that yet—and he enjoys the new home he found for himself.

a/n: finally finished this 😩😩 i need some water. also i just think choso random appearance to be so fucking funny b/c what do you mean your related to me?

© GAZZISTT

[undiscovered-horizon]

i know you only uploaded it a few hours ago, but please carry on the reader accidentally summoning morpheus, im dying to know their history, and his feelings on how much time has passed <3 big fan!!

A/N: By popular demand, I'm writing a 2nd part. The quoted poem is something I was obsessed with as a kid. My mom still quotes it.

[Imagine accidentally summoning Morpheus] || [Sandman-inspired playlist]

All of it sounded like a madman's bad joke.

"Wait, hold on." You waved your hand. Hunching over the dusty box filled with remnants of your childhood, you began looking for another trinket that surely must have been there. "You mean that you are... goddamn where is it... I saw it somewhere here... Got it!" you exclaimed when you stood up with a thin, red book in your hand. "You mean that you are this funny fella?"

Your finger was tapping against the cover of a children's book. There was an illustration of a Santa Claus-like man carrying a big sack thrown over his shoulder. He was climbing a ladder to an open bedroom window. Above the picture, in fancy curvy letters, was written Grandfather Sand.

A small smile crept unto Morpheus's face. His eyes lit up vividly and you suspected that if he was any less reserved in his emotional expression, he would have laughed in your face. "Did you think he is the Sandman?"

"I didn't think the Sandman was at all," you retorted as you carelessly tossed the book on your bed. Looking once more at the pleasantly familiar illustration, the nostalgia made you recall something Morpheus had said to you a few minutes ago. "You said you know my face."

"I have visited you many times before," he stated. After a moment, he added in a quieter, defeated tone: "But you don't seem to remember."

You only shrugged your shoulders. "If I was a toddler, then no wonder. It was lifetimes ago."

Morpheus gave the room an absent once-over before staring at the box next to the two of you. Something brown and fur-like was peeking from behind dolls and plastic horses. His pale, skeletal hand reached for the mysterious object only for it to turn out to be an old, worn-out teddy bear. It still smelled of your grandmother's perfume. Sometimes you wondered what happened to him... Apparently, Terry had been safe and sound in your grandmother's basement throughout all those years.

Dream was examining the bear when he suddenly decided to make you recall something you had already forgotten you once remembered: "Maybe Spot tugged at him, tore the ear off, didn't say he's sorry?"

It was a quote - one that you had grown to know all too well. You felt as though that single line from a rhymed story allowed you to rediscover the oldest memories your brain could possibly store like you suddenly became privy to a life you had once led but not anymore. "A needle, a thread, a pair of hands, we'll mend the hurt right away," you quietly continued." You fixed Terry..." Yes, that plushy friend from your childhood did need an 'emergency surgery' once, although you could never quite recall who sew his ear back on. At some point, you even began questioning whether his little accident was even real as there was no sign of a tear whatsoever.

The memory came to you in waves like afterimages of a dream one tries to recall after waking up. It was all blurry, voices heard from miles away and sights as if seen through a dirty lens. "Yeah, I remember I used to ask to be told the same three stories over and over again and you were never frustrated with me."

"You were a great listener."

"So, how does this work? The melody plays and you just, puff, appear wherever?"

Morpheus sat Terry at the top of the dolls, plastic horses and fairytale books about fairies still residing inside the box. His bony hand lingered on the brown, matted fur of the plushie. "It was a gift." His gaze returned to you. "To a girl who just like you could not fall asleep. For decades it remained silent until that one night when I met you for the first time."

Your hand brushed against the ceramic raven inside the music box. It was quite an interesting choice of design for an item meant for children. "A magical heirloom. Sounds cool." The ghosting touch of your fingers was withheld only for you to close the enamelled lid for an unspecified amount of time. "Don't worry, I won't abuse that... privilege. I'm sure you have a lot going on anyway."

Without letting his gaze leave you, Morpheus was a little too quick to answer you. "Play it anytime you want."

His expression remained generally ambiguous but you figured it was just the way he looked. There was, however, one detail of his face that caught your attention: his eyebrows slightly raised making him appear somewhat surprised or nervous. "Is that permission or a suggestion?" you asked.

"Both."

Tagging people who were interested in a follow-up: @secretdreamlandmentality @kbrownie @lolitaisreal @thegraywitch @aralezinspace @boofy1998

[happyk44]

Thinking abt Hazel who usually gets Macaria to do her hair since they have similiar hair types (I perceive Macaria to appear black in her day-to-day, like Thanatos). Or sometimes Zagreus, who loved to play with his sisters' hair as a kid and is still willing to sit down for a few hours to do painstakingly complex braids.

But they're both gone, doing their own thing, when Hazel comes down and she sighs because this is the only free moment she has and sure she could get it done at Camp Jupiter or New Rome but she liked the family aspect.

Also it's free when her siblings do her hair. And free is always convenient.

She considers Nico, who's not that bad at it, he just takes way longer than everyone else and his plaits aren't as tight as they could be, when Pluto walks by. He prompts her and she tells him and blinks confused when a second pips by and she's suddenly seated on a plush cushion, products and brushes and combs around her. Her father is seated behind her, his long long legs stretched out.

It's sort of annoying how tall he is. He's behind her and yet his feet pass hers.

Why the hell is she and Nico so short? Even Macaria, born by Hades' sole hand from the dirt of the underworld and dessicated souls, defaults to just below average.

His fingers are cool against her nap as he separates her evenly. "What were you looking for?"

"Uh-" A book appears on her lap. She flips it open. Dozens of hair styles on every page, every hair type accommodated, every style listed. Even the ones far out of date. The models differ - in age, in race, in gender, in time period.

They feel familiar, familial. She wonders what it would take for her to join this family photo album. If she'll be present by mere existence, or if she needs to display a style never seen before for it to count.

"Uh, I usually just get..." She pauses on a photo. The girl is smiling wide with jewels adorning each plait. Even in the turnarounds, when her face is no longer visible, she seems happy. "This one is nice."

Pluto's chin scoots across the top of her head as he looks down. "Fulani with ornamental accents," he muses. He waves his hand as a bowl of beads appears between their legs. Different colours, different gems. "Pick. I'll let you know when I get there."

Hazel picks up the bowl. The jewels glitter. "Did you do all of these?"

"Most of them," he says.

She pulls out a thick golden bead. "Do you like doing hair?"

It seems a stupid question when it hits the hair and she curses her brain for not catching her tongue. But he answers, amused, "Sometimes. When you're patient. Nico never was, but fortunately Hades is a little more relaxed than I am."

She thinks of Nico, young, and tucked into their father's lap, wet locks being combed and brushed back gently as they dry. She thinks of him squirming, as kids do, bored of sitting still while his hair is trimmed. Or curled. Or whatever he had going on. For all she knows, he was being braided too, with slick smooth plaits. Over and under, over and under. Thin fingers and a idle smile listening to the chatter of a toddler.

"I didn't have much help when she was born," he continues. "And Macaria liked to play rough with the dogs and chickens and Furies." He clips part of her hair to the side and hums softly. "And their claws are not quite suited to crafting ponytails or braids from thick curly hair."

Hazel sets a beautiful onyx bead with her slowly forming pile. There's a thin golden imprint of a skull on it. The skin of it is smooth. Even the grooves are so subtle she can't feel them with her fingertip, only sensing it from the catch of her nail.

"And you just... carried on with it?" She pauses, shifting her head with gentle guide of his hands. "Even when they had other people without claws to help?"

"Of course." The comb is gentle as he passes it through. Slow and steady. Like Macaria and Zagreus, but softer somehow. "I'm your father. Why wouldn't I keep doing your hair?"

[phoebepheebsphibs]

Hey, Wait a Minute.... Where's Claire?

@littlemissartemisia @tmntaucompetition

Prev || Next

Claire paced angrily back and forth as she waited. Patience was not her strongest attribute.

Where was he? He wasn't the type to be late. Maybe it was her. Maybe it was this place. Time didn't seem to exist in this arena... or at the very least, it didn't flow properly. It was a bit screwy in this dimension. It wasn't as if there was a son or moon or stars to measure the passage of time! There were some clocks, but those were more like general estimations than actual time-telling. One minute could pass in your home dimension, and it would have been a full week here. Or, one hour could go by here and it would have been a month on the outside. One end of the compound could move faster than the other. It was all relative, fluctuating, and nothing seemed scientifically plausible. So, while her wristwatch said that she'd sent the message and invitation to the TMNT AU Competitions to Baron Draxum only a few hours ago, it felt like it had actually been weeks!

A pink and magenta portal suddenly appeared a few feet away from her. Finally, he was here.

Draxum slowly stepped through, his gargoyles perched atop his shoulders as he looked around, scanning the compounds with a mix of caution and curiosity.

"How interesting..." he murmured.

"Glad to see you finally made it," Claire grumbled, crossing her arms.

"I wasn't sure the coordinates you gave me were correct, they didn't lead to anywhere on our plane of existence," Draxum noted. "But after some thorough examination, I saw that there was a pocket universe hidden within the destination. After that, it was simply a matter of finding the correct potions and spells to infiltrate without being seen, as per your instructions."

"Took you long enough. But I'm glad you're here," she said. "We have work to do."

"So I gathered from your message. You said that the subject is here?"

"Not just her," Claire said with a wicked grin. "This whole place is filled with variants of your original experiments! And even more! There are even some that were actually raised by their universe's version of you."

"Really? Hmm. I should like to see that..." Draxum said, grinning as he considered what these variants would look like. They must be the most effective warriors, strong and able-bodied and fearsome and cutthroat.

"Ooh, I wonder what Draxum would be like as a father," Huginn chuckled. "I'm sure he would be loving and caring as always!"

"You'll probably see soon enough," Claire noted. "But first, our plans."

"You didn't say much in your message. Crypticity does not become you," Draxum said, gritting his teeth. "I don't think I need to remind you that I dislike being summoned as though I were some resource you can play with when it suits you. I am a busy Yokai, Claire. You and your little Artemisia are not the only mutant turtles I am preoccupied with."

"I know, but this will be worth your while!" she promised, her voice raising in excitement.

"Prove it."

"How would you like to have not one, but FIVE experiments?"

"Five?" Draxum repeated, unsure if she was jesting or being serious.

"Misa is travelling with an alternate version of the teenage mutant ninja turtles that you created all those years ago. They are essentially the same, with the same genetics and similar traits as yours. And most of them have been reverted back to their early childhood, which means they would be extremely pliable and easy for you to manipulate, while also being just old enough to understand orders and be capable minions!"

"And you couldn't capture them on your own? Five little toddlers?" Draxum huffed. "I wonder if I should be disgusted by your lack of skill, or impressed by their abilities."

"Do not blame her, they are not alone," said a voice from behind Claire's head.

The Hand.PNG slowly crawled around, perching itself on her shoulder, almost mimicking Huginn and Muninn, who recoiled in disgust at the thing.

"The turtle tots are traveling with three young adults. They shall not be easy to defeat, mind you. But you may leave that to me."

"And who exactly are you?" Draxum questioned.

"This is the hand I wrote you about; it told me how to capture the specimens," Claire explained quickly.

"And why would it do that?" he growled, sensing some ulterior motive within the disembodied appendage. "What would you have to gain?"

"I have nothing to gain, expect the fulfilment of my purpose."

"What purpose is that? Are you some enemy of the turtles, that you would want to see them captured by me?" Draxum challenged.

"I am not their enemy, though most would think of me as such. I am a prompter, my purpose is to continue the story, to get it moving, keep it flowing. For the time being, that means assisting you in capturing Misa and the turtle tots. Now, I must go..."

"Go?" Draxum questioned, still unsure of the hand's motives.

"Yes. As of right now, the odds are not in your favour. I must set this right. By tomorrow, you shall have the upper hand. Ahem, so to speak. All I need do is change the perspective of one particular player in this act, and the scene shall be set."

The Hand.PNG jumped down from Claire's shoulders and skittered away.

"...I don't trust it," Draxum growled low.

"I don't either. When I first met it, the Hand said something about how it didn't want to hurt Misa, but would let me do it. I'm not sure what goal it's working towards... but I can't see any reason for it to betray us," Claire explained. "For the moment, it seems to be on our side. I say we wait a bit before killing off the golden goose, hm?"

"Fair enough," Draxum sighed. "But you still have yet to tell me why I am here."

"Oh, right! Well, these variants that Artemisia is travelling with? One of them is named 'Donatello Von Draxum', sound familiar? Apparently he was raised by you in his world, and until just recently, he was your loyal little soldier. And that's where you come in..."

Claire continued to explain the plot that she'd been given, as the Hand.PNG followed it's favourite playthings to their rooms... its new story unfolding, its plan coming together.

Although, it had not been completely honest with them... yes, it had plans for Donatello, but there was one other person whose perspective it planned to change...

[just-some-random-blogger]

I'm nervous about requesting this since I don't know if it's a good idea, but here goes: Reader goes camping for a weekend and decides to invite Dream to do typical camping activities (canoeing, swimming, hiking, etc) with them on one of those days. Can be pure fluff/slice of life (though I wouldn't mind a little bit of smut too).

Marshies

Dream of the Endless x Reader + Destruction of the Endless x Reader

Summary: "Pardon," Dream shakes his head, "how were you two acquainted again?" Destruction and you turn to each other as you bring your chocolate marshmallows closer to the open fire. In unison, you reply, "Didi."

Word Count: 1k+

Warnings: gender neutral reader, camp instructor!reader kinda, unbelievably mopey!dream, puppy!destruction, fluff, jealousy, bro vs bro?, typos, etc.

A/N: HELLO MY BABY LOVE FANGIRLMARY. I AM SO HAPPY YOU CAME TO MY INBOX I DO A DANCY DANCE. I LOVE YOUR URL UR DP AND YOUR REQ SO MUCH I GIVE YOU AN EXPRESS PASS. I havent had a req like this at all i think AHHAHAHA. It's so, how you say, simple and cute which is a great thing to start with for me. n ur like me fr cos i get nervous sending asks T_T so if you're still nervous lemme hold your hand. anyway, it kind of spiraled, and I felt like adding an endless sib so i did and I HAVE A SOFT SPOT FOR DESTRUCTION OK 😫 i hope you don't mind huhuhuh and hope you like it my love <3 i think i've used this gif before but its too perfect for the fic not to reuse HAHHAAH Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @sloanexx @deniixlovezelda @shadow-pancake9

You were a rainstorm and Dream was a sponge, except he didn't know it. With every opportunity he had to be around you, he took you in until he was overcome with an uncomfortable heaviness. He was leaking with grimy emotions. And he was awfully spineless.

Matthew had been croaking from his shoulder, telling him he was a ridiculously wet sponge, and that he had to pull himself together and wring himself up because he was, frankly, disgusting.

That did not bode well for the bird. But this is not about that.

It's about how the lord of dreams did get thinking that. Perhaps, he should in fact act upon these weeping urges, for it was painful to be around you yet not have you.

It was unclear who was more shocked when you suddenly invited Dream for a weekend away, Matthew or Dream himself.

And so with the thickest, greasiest, smuggest smirk, Dream accepted the invitation. He made it known that he was graciously making room in his labor-filled schedule to accommodate your request, but accommodate your request he surely would do.

For the days building to that weekend away, Dream would study all the spectacles that involved camping. He would be camping with you and you would be camping with him; it will be lovely. He visited the dreams of those who enjoyed the leisure, and those who were objectively good at it, soaking in all the things he could learn, much like the sponge he was.

You can only imagine how shocked he was to find that the precious gift of the precious free time you, in your humanly nature, prized so much, was not even a gift to him at all, it seemed. For a gift was not typically shared, not meant to be shared, much less with some 20 other people.

"HEY DREAM!" you beamed, grinning ear to ear as you raised a hand and waved at him the moment you spotted him.

You promptly jogged over and huffed through your smile, "I'm so glad you decided to come! You'll like the people here, I promise."

Dream looks at you as a toddler busts a lung out crying. He cannot find himself to smile, though you do, for a corrosive jealousy was ripping through his stomach. You begin to explain that most of the people present were from the same circles as you,and that you did most of the planning for the weekend. You reiterate that it will be fun.

And yet as your expression softened and your brows raised while you assessed his form, he could not not smile at the sight of your doe eyes.

A dark cloud thunders above him.

He begs to disagree.

"You didn't bring any bags? Any equipment... at all?" you tilt your head.

Dream places his hands behind him, "I find no need for it. After all, anything you can posses comes from nature, does it not?"

You pull your head back and chuckle, "wow, okay, nature man," you grin, "I'm glad you at least dressed for the woods. I would have told you off if you kept your trench coat on."

Dream needlessly brushes off his tank top then places his hands in the pockets of his jogging pants, "I am capable of dressing cordially to the setting."

What he was incapable of doing though, was sharing. But you already knew that. At least he thought you did.

You introduce him to many people, he nods in regard but does no more. When someone calls for your help to set up some things, Dream immediately swoops in and makes sure that he would be the one to help you as you help.

"I must say," Dream starts as he lends you a hand whilst in building some tents, "I thought that today would be a more... intimate setting."

You turn to him as you poked a stick through the fabric, "it is. This is the smallest number of people I've hosted for a weekend at this site."

Dream's eye twitches, "but I had thought," he turns to you with a stern expression, "the invitation was exclusive to me."

To be honest, you were too preoccupied with setting up to notice how serious he was about it. The moment you caught the glint in his eye, your stomach dropped. Your lips part at the grave expression etched across his face. "Uhhhh," you clear your throat, "well, I mean, you're the only person I invited, if that counts for anything."

Dream sucks in a breath as he finishes doing his side of the tent. He walks over to you and helps you with your side. He does not look at you as his hands take yours but he knows in his bones that your eyes were on him. He also knows there was a heat blossoming in your cheeks.

He mutters, "I see," he spares you a moment's glance, "then I am glad."

That didn't last long though.

The next thing he knows, he's made to sit with a group of men, all somehow bearded, laughing over the 'good ol days' over some beer in between scolding the human spawn they had with them.

After that, he was doing yoga with some mothers that were giggling over embarrassing stories, and how good looking he was in between scolding the human spawn they had with them.

And then, well, he was holding a leash of dogs who were eager to run off but not allowed to because their masters where setting up, and so they ended up barking at the human spawn they had with them.

Then, like a true omen, he heard the laugh of the prodigal.

How did he know it The Prodigal? Well, considering the earth shook beneath his sneakers and the flock of birds fled from the trees, he was certain it was him.

Normally, he'd be glad to see his little brother, but when he saw his giant frame next to your smaller one, well, let's just say everyone who was in the middle of a nap at that moment woke up from a terrible nightmare.

"Brother," Dream interjects your giggling conversation.

Dream, needless to say, was salty to see your temperate exchange. He had gone above and beyond to socialize with the people in this camp, and yet here you were with the wrong Endless.

You and Destruction turn to him mid-catching your breath. All Dream could think about was how you had your palm on Destruction's bicep.

Was the temperature dropping?

Destruction perks. He raises his hands and steps forward, "brother!"

Dream is sealed into a tight embrace and is lifted off the ground in the process. His eyes are on you as you look between him and Destuction.

"You two are brothers?" you ask in surprise.

Destruction turns to you as he sets Dream down, "we are!" He slaps Dream's back, making his body flinch to the side. The older of the two grunts where the younger one smiles, "he's my big bro!"

"Oh!" you say with wide eyes. You tilt your head, "well then that explains the odd names."

Destruction gives a hearty laugh. Dream eyes him hotly.

Destruction sighs, "I'll know to call you if I ever did you get my brother to agree to come out somewhere."

Dream grunts.

You shake your head, "I'm equally surprised to see him here, honestly. Most of the time I'm not even sure if he enjoys being around me."

He turns to you upon hearing this.

"He's a tough nut," Destruction retorts, pulling his brother into a side hug, "but he's not hard to crack."

Before Dream can even respond, his brother rakes them both over to the lake, "now, how about we go canoeing!?"

Destruction couldn't have offered a more terrible idea.

The canoe boats were not suited to carry the Endless, much less two at once.

Destruction, ever the gentleman, did not hesitate to plunge ankle deep into the lake, only to ensure that you get into the boat safely. He held your hand as you stepped in, and Dream bristled as he watched.

When his brother turned to him, offering out a hand in order to do the same for Dream, the older of the two practically seethed in annoyance.

He turned his cheek and crossed his arms.

Destruction sighed, "oh, come now, Dream. The canoe awaits!"

Dream is adamant and stays put.

Destruction presses his lips into a line and decides to get in with you.

"Come on, Dream," you urge upon seeing his pettiness, "canoeing is fun! I promise."

One of the many promises you've made thus far.

Dream lets out a breath upon hearing your voice and the yelp-turned-giggle that you release as your tiny canoe rocks because of his massive brother.

Dream holds back an eyeroll as he watches you clutch onto Destruction, as not to rock the boat further. You giggle again, as does his brother.

"Very well," Dream says, walking over to you both.

It was futile however; every attempt in joining the already crowded canoe lead to only disaster.

It was clear Dream could not join in the canoeing, at least not in the same boat.

So the two of you rowed deeper into the lake, and Dream followed after in a separate canoe all by himself. A miserable predicament.

He could hear your soft voice, droning about all the nature facts you knew. It was audible, your excitement. He could not see you, not with his physical eyes at least, but he knew your face was lit up. It always did in moments like this. Destruction listens intently as you speak, though undoubtedly, he knew most of what you were talking about already, being a nature buff himself.

He reacted with excitement accordingly. He gasped, and laughed, and inquired further in all the right moments. He made your voice lift into further enthusiasm. He made it sound so easy. And perhaps it was to him.

Dream then rowed faster, so that, finally, your rides were side by side.

Destruction talked to you about the old sprites and spirits that used to live in these parts. Dream catches how you lean in to listen to his words. His eyes practically burn when he catches the flower in your hair, the same kind of flower that was in Destruction's.

Dream felt like jumping into the canoe across him, but that would hardly put him into your good graces, so he doesn't.

Before he realizes what he is doing, Dream clears his throat then loudly speaks, cutting his brother off, "you know I am friends with the queen of the fairies."

Both you and Destruction turn to him.

Dream ceases his rowing and allows his boat to drift next to yours.

There is a long silence between the three of you.

You turn from Dream to Destruction, jaw turning slack.

Why are you looking at him?

You push your shoulders back and tilt your head, "ah..." you smile at Dream, "I see."

Dream clenches his jaw. That was not the reaction he expected. But then again, he was unsure of what he was expecting.

It's Destruction that diffuses the thickening awkwardness, "he commissioned Shakespeare to write for the queen, you know."

You pull your head back then chuckle, "ah," you smile brighter, "he did, did he?" You turn back to Dream, "and which Shakespearean work would that be?"

Dream lifts his nose, "I have inspired the bard to write a great many plays. Two of them however are specifically for me."

You lean back in laughter, clutching your chest in delight, "ah, is that so? Let me guess, is one of them A Midsummer Night's Dream?"

Dream smiles, "precisely."

You laugh louder, shaking your head, "that's seems about right. I must admit," you sigh as you level your breathing, "I haven't really read that story at all. I... don't think I have the brain power to."

"No shame in that. I personally prefer painting over plays," Destruction notes, claiming your attention once again, "I admit, my attention span is not so suited for long winding plays."

You laugh again but Dream does not enjoy it, "yeah. I don't mean to offend the dead, but I can't really understand Shakespearean at all, so. The language is too outdated for me."

Dream accidentally (intentionally) hits the side of the other canoe. He feigns ignorance for a moment but then turns to the two of you, offering a wry smile, "apologies."

He was not at all apologetic.

In the end, Dream was situated between yours and his brother's shoulders in front of the large campfire most of the people on this wretched camp trip were circled around.

The explosiveness of the day had melted into a solemn and warm nightly gathering. Everyone was doing their own thing, cooking food, passing said food around, sharing stories. There was a strong sense of community. Dream, yet, felt like he did not belong.

The nightmare king, as he was talked over by the two of you, passed the 3rd plate of pie, rhubarb this time, to the person past you, then sunk deeper into his spot.

You were oblivious to him, he thinks

You were not. You noticed he was sulky ever since the canoeing. You offered a stick of animal shaped marshmallows to Dream mid conversation with his brother. He declined and sat up straight.

"Pardon," Dream shakes his head, "how were you two acquainted again?"

Destruction and you turn to each other as you bring your chocolate marshmallows closer to the open fire. In unison, you reply, "Didi."

Ah, Death. That made sense.

"Wait," you raise a finger, turning to Dream. He immediately perks up. Finally, he has your attention.

"If you're related to Didi," you start, "then that means you're-" you point to Destruction, "related to Didi."

Destruction grins, "my big sister!"

"Ah," you smile, "being sweet must run in the family."

"I have had enough!" Dream blurts, standing from his spot. He does this so abruptly that you drop your marshies and it calls the attention of other camp goers, not that he cared at all at this point.

He fails to realize that you did very much care.

You feel the hair at the back of your neck prick as you look up at fiery Dream. He pipes, "you told me it was I that you invited, I and only I, and yet you have done nothing but speak to my brother the whole day!"

Destruction can feel the agitation radiating off you for being put in the spot like that. He raises a hand, "Dream-"

"You are not being spoken to, Destruction," he turns to his brother, "know your place."

Not that you looked, not that you wanted to, but you could feel everyone's eyes burning into your body.

Destruction raises his hands in defeat. He turns to the crowd and sees a few of them were looking on in their direction. He turns back to you then the next second decides he knows what to do. Destruction looks out to the cliff from not too far off, then with the slightest tilt of his head, it falls with a loud splash into the lake.

It effectively distracts everyone who was looking your direction and everyone who wasn't.

"WOW!" Destruction points and stands, "that was a rock falling!"

You stand as well, looking to the people moving over to see what had happened to what, but Dream's grip on your arm keeps you from following.

"Please," he mutters, making you turn to him. His face is mystical in this light. It is shadowy yet so beautiful. "Speak in earnest. I cannot take this any further. I wish to know who between us has your heart."

You are effectively winded by this talk. It came out from seemingly nowhere.

"Is it I or my brother that you want to be with," Dream mumbles lowly, making your entire body freeze.

Your breath hitches, "b-be- what?"

"Must I speak more plainly? You can only have one. I am not particularly generous, and I certainly do not like to share what is mine," he raises his hand. You hold your breath in fear of the sound of your shaky breath when he brushes his fingers against your shoulder, "what I want to be mine," he whispers. "I especially find it difficult to release something that I want-- tenfold knowing what I want could well end in the arms of one of my siblings."

Your heart was echoing in your ribcage and your eardrums at this point.

The thumping would have excited Dream had he not been so green with envy.

"Destruction is dear to me," his soft lips move ever so slightly, "but if it comes to it, I will fight for you."

You nearly choke on your breath and your spit. A fight? One between Dream and Destruction? It sounds like a primordial event. A shiver runs down your spine. You shake your head quickly, "please don't."

Dream knits his brows and shakes his head more surely than you did, "I will."

Your breath hitches, "to be honest-" you blurt, "I didn't realize you- you... liked me like that."

Dream watches as you gather your thoughts.

"You... you do pop up in the strangest places, but I chalked that to something of fate or... proximity," you give a nervous look, "and you're not very good at showing emotions... I normally convince myself that if you didn't want to be around me, then you wouldn't."

He steps forward and places his hand on your cheek. "Allow me to make myself perfectly clear then," he rubs your skin with his thumb. Your skin pricks with goodbumps.

"Think back to the first moment we met. Every moment after, all instances that you have seen me was not coincidence. That was me purposefully reaching out to you, wanting be near you, wanting to see you, wanting to hear you, wanting to be with you, wanting you."

Both his hands are on your face now. His thumbs ghosts over your lips, "I want you."

You gulp.

"Do you want me too?"

You can't speak. You cant think. You can't breathe.

He doesn't let you when he leans in and kisses you. Soon enough, he gets his answer when you grab onto his top and kiss him back.

The forest trembles beneath your feet. Neither of you notice.

There, behind a not too far off tree, Destruction watches.

Matthew, in an announcer voice: In a total 180, the Dream rizz reaches maximum capacity, and in the end, he gets what he wants.

[theonetruegnome]

Oh my god it's been like 4 days, I'm sorrryy, you must all be so mad at me, I'm sorry. But at the same time, I feel I am constantly churning out content and feel somewhat anxious about not pacing myself. I'm sure I have enough steam left to at least tie up any loose ends, so don't worry, the story will finish itself. But I just wanna know; Should I pick back up my old pace of 'one thing every day or so', or do you prefer waiting a few days? Feedback on this would be greatly appreciated. Anyway, enjoy the show!

There was complete silence following Conk's words. Eli was staring, mouth agape in shock, at the small figure. She was short, no doubt about that. She came barely up to her brother's midriff. Yet she seemed much larger than she actually was, due to the large amount of lilac downy feathers covering her whole body. The fluffy young feathers looked soft to the touch and worked to make her appear older and stronger than probably she was. The only parts of her body discernible from the plumage were her hands and the part of her face not hidden by her fringe. She wore a pair of faded booties with very heavily patched soles, as well as a deep purple scarf that was a bit too big for her, having been tied up several times so as not to appear ridiculous. Near her chin, sewn into the fabric, were the initials 'C.O Featherby'. The entire time they had seen her, her face wore the brightest smile any of them had seen, and that's coming from the group that frequently hung out with Callum!

The silence stretched on. Eli and Dandy were both blushing a prominent red. Mana had one hoof pressed against the bridge of her nose. Finally Eli spoke up.

'Conk, I am so sorry, I-I didn't know.'

'Eh, it's fine, these things happen.

'No, really, that was... That was just bad, we... Sorry...' 'Yeah, we shouldn't have assumed... Sorry' The elephant averted his eyes down to his feet while Dandy's cheeks went redder still.

'You guys apologise too much. I really don't mind, and I'm sure she doesn't, do you?' 'Whuh?' 'See?'

Eli gave a weak chuckle at the young hen's confusion, face clearing somewhat of the red incursion. Callum approached the chick and bent down to talk to her,

'So what's your name then little lady?' 'Chamomile!' 'Well, isn't that a pretty name! Do you like your name?' 'Uh-huh! What's your name?' 'My name's Callum.' 'Your name's pretty too!'

As Callum kept up the conversation, the rest approached the trio to get a better look at the fluffy little bean.

'So... You have a sister. That's new then?' 'Huh? Oh, no, she's three years and four months old now. Really *Yawn* Growin' up fast. Ahh.' 'What?! How can I only be finding out about this now? I've been to your house like a dozen times this year!' '*Streeetch!* I guess you're just not observant.' 'Conk, I have five siblings, two of which are younger sisters. I find that very unlikely.' 'And yet you didn't even notice the toddler that suddenly appeared in my house?' 'Says the guy who forgot my birthday two years in a row and told me a story to compensate.' 'You love my stories! And I didn't exactly hear you complaining when I said 'The End'.' 'I was passed out for the next eighteen hours, I didn't get a chance to complain.'

As Conk tries to answer, he's cut off;

'Alright, settle down, neither of you is perfect, we can agree on that. Let's just end it there.' 'Hey, why is she wearing your clothes?' 'Why do you ask?' 'It's just that it looks like you have a poorly-made Mini Me following you around. Nothing else.' 'They're hand-me-downs. She was so happy when she first got 'em she's never taken 'em off.' 'That can't be true!' 'Those are her clothes, P.Js and even her bath clothes. If they need a wash we have to sponge her down and huh- *Yawn* hang her outside to dry as well. She loves them that much.' '...Ok, that's the most adorable thing I've ever heard.'

Chamomile, having finished talking, toddles over, looks up at Conk and raises her arms above her head.

'Up! Up!'

'OhMyGod it got cuter.'

'*Snap!* This is one for the scrapbook!'

'Okay Chicklet, *Oof* uuuup we go!' Conk Groans like a middle-aged man with a bad back as he lifts his sister onto his shoulders. Next to the perfect little chick right next to him, the others notice for the first time how truly awful he looks. Feathers sticking up at odd angles, eyelids twitching, he's shaking like a leaf and his eyes are so bagged it looks like he's been punched in the face.

'Uhhh, Conk?' 'Huh? What's up?' 'What's up is that you look like the grim reaper. How long did you sleep last night?' 'I pretty much didn't, and now I can't tell if I'm dead or not. Which is why I'm going to be taking this little pickle home for a nap, she's too energetic.' 'Nooooo! I dun wanna sleep!' Chamomile tries to stand up and climb away from Conk's reach pulling on many feathers in the process. 'Oww! Ok, Cham, I'm going home to rest anyway and I should take you home for Mom and Dad's sake, they'll be worried sick about you. You're sweet for trying, but you can't just go toddling off looking for me when you miss me.' 'Bu' I Don't wanna sleep. I wanna play.'

'I mean, we could take care of her while you go home and sleep.'

Conk's head whips around to look at Sunny. 'What? No, not possible. Out of the question.' 'Why? We-' She glances over at Dandy, Eli and Mana. 'I am responsible enough to take care of her, so you can tell your parents that. And she won't be bored at all with Callum and Leah fussing over her.' Conk glances over at the two, who are looking at Chamomile like a pair of arsonists would look at a gas station. Okay, they'd all take good care of her, but... 'But, I'm her brother...' He stifled a yawn and rubbed his temples. God his head hurt. 'So? Nobody ever said she had to be looked after by a relative-' 'Gimme the baby!' 'Woah! Tone it down Callum! You're at a fourteen, we'd like you at like a four, max, ok?' 'Ok, sorry, I just got excited...' '...I... I guess you guys could hold onto her for a few minutes...' He gently lowered her to the ground and knelt down to speak to her face to face. 'Cham, you're going to stay with Sunny and the others for a while, ok? I'll be at home taking a nap. If you want to go home, just tell someone and they'll take you home, got it?' 'Otay! I love you!' 'I love you too Cham.' Conk gently kissed her on the forehead before letting go of her. As he trotted away, he looked back. Chamomile had wrapped herself around Leah's legs, the latter appearing to be experiencing cute-induced hysteria.

Conk slowly trudged the well-known path back home, forcing himself not to drop into nearby hedgerows and flower beds to pass out. Finally, he reached the Featherby family household. He stepped inside, mumbled to his parents where his sister was and that they shouldn't worry, and tucked himself into bed. A single thought swam to the forefront of his mind as his breathing slowed and his limbs went light. 'I must be the luckiest cockerel... in the world... To have... such good friends...' Finally he closed his eyes and entered the familiar folds of calm, numbing oblivion.

[skolworthy]

Time Knows No Bounds - Part Two

Warnings: None that need apology

Info: When the font is like this, it means Ragnar is speaking in his native tongue. When he is speaking English it will just be italicized. The reader's text is just normal and anyone other than Ragnar or the reader will be in bold.

Spoilers: None, because this is completely my creation (apart from the character/legend of Ragnar Lothbrok and other historical names) it has nothing to really do with the tv series.

Plot: Ragnar, in this series, is unattached to anyone romantically. No Lagertha or Aslaug or any other baby momma's out there. No children. He has met and learned with Athelstan, because that contributes to his ability to speak with the reader. Other than that, he's just a simple gorgeous viking that lives on his farm in Kattegat, dreaming of adventure.

Summary: Now that you had a living, breathing piece of history fall into your lap...what were you supposed to do with him? Now that the brief taxi ride was over, it was time to survive the almost two hour train ride back home.

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The taxi ride to the train station was quieter than you thought it would be, Ragnar simply gazing out of the window and taking in everything as you passed it by. For someone suddenly thrown into a different time period, he was remaining incredibly calm. Though, you had absolutely no idea what was going on inside that head of his. The train station seemed to knock Ragnar out of his silent stupor, making waiting in line to obtain your tickets a difficulty. He had kept trying to wander off, his curiosity getting the better of him and you ended up at the point where you had a firm grip against his sleeve. Any time he began to move away from you, you gave it a tug and he would glance over at you, give that smirk and commented. "Desperate to keep me at your side?" To which you replied: "Hey, if you want to get lost in a completely different time period that you know nothing about, go right ahead." Promptly letting go of his sleeve, giving your own smirk up at him. As he had looked down at you, you couldn't help but notice a slight twinkle within his eye, perhaps of amusement due to your sassy quip, either way, it made your breath hitch inside your chest for a moment.

Despite having to be confined by your side, Ragnar still asked numerous questions about anything his eyes settled on. While you knew what everything that he was asking about was and how it worked, it was an entirely different matter when he would ask the purpose. Much like when a small child constantly asked 'Why?' when you had already answered the question. There even came a moment where Ragnar said that he needed to urinate, though he literally just said "I need to piss" and went over to the nearest potted tree in the train station and began to unlace his trousers, thankfully you managed to stop him. Again, like a toddler, you had to explain to him where to relieve himself that was appropriate and that in itself was a challenge. You had to describe the urinal and also tell him that he had to wash his hands, which he simply stared at you about. "Wash, why?" "There was a reason vikings and people from the past always died young: germs." you said as you described how the soap dispenser worked and the sink. Lord...maybe you ought to have someone that was about to go into the men's room help him out, perhaps they would believe he suffered from amnesia and forgot how to use the bathroom properly? Was that believable? Hell, you didn't know. Your mind once again went to 'Why am I doing this?' and you answered yourself once more with 'For science!'. Or at least for your huge sense of curiosity, that and you just knew that you couldn't abandon him in a cruel world like this. He would either end up dead, or...possibly even end up killing someone himself, he was viking after all and it was in their blood to fight.

The time came to wait for your train's arrival and you brought Ragnar over to the numbered gate and walked with him forward a bit, to where he was able to look down at the tracks, then his eyes moved to other trains that were on different tracks slowly running hither and yon. He pointed at the tracks and tilted his head. "This is how they move?" You gave a smile and nodded. "How?" "Electricity." He stared at you, bit his bottom lip slightly and then rubbed the back of his neck. "Eeeee...lec...tricity?" he said, actually doing a decent job with pronunciation, and you gave him a nod again. "A form of energy made up of charged particles." You knew that this would go completely over his head, but the facial expression he gave you was totally worth it and you gave a chuckle. "Sorry, I'm doing my best to answer your questions, but they just bring up more questions. This is the future, and we have evolved quite a bit since Viking times. Sometimes it's best not to ask questions, just to observe in wonder." Ragnar just smiled down at you, his bright blue eyes gazing into yours until he finally gave his own nod. "I do appreciate your effort in trying to educate me. I am afraid that I make a poor student." You grinned at him and then clapped him on the shoulder, which made his eyebrow raise a bit and his lips to curl upward more. "Don't worry, you'll catch up eventually. Or at least until we can get you back home." At this, you noted how his smile faltered ever so slightly, and a small flicker of disappointment appeared in his gaze.

The two of you stood there looking at one another for a few moments until the train passed by you on the tracks that you were standing near on the platform, startling you both. Ragnar's hand instinctively moved down to where his axe would have been, had you not convinced him to allow you to keep it in your bag. You had tagged it and bagged it, much like you would have an artifact for the museum, and once you showed the security guards your credentials and documentation from the museum stating that your team had been on an excavation nearby, they allowed the axe to remain within your bag. Not good to have a man wielding an axe board a train after all. The train came to a slow stop and then you took hold of Ragnar's sleeve again and moving him back some as the doors hissed open and people began to file out. "I have a perfectly good hand to guide me with, you know?" He said as he leaned down slightly and spoke the words into your ear, goosebumps forming on your skin from the feeling of his breath against it. "And yet, how do I know that you washed them like I told you to after relieving yourself, hmm?" At this you noticed a slight blush to Ragnar's face and your mouth opened slightly. "You didn't do it, did you?" You said, speaking to him like a mother would chastise their child. "Nothing was happening, so...I may have torn it off of the wall?" Your mouth opened more and your eyes widened. "What?!" You said in a hushed breath. "No one saw." You made a face of disbelief but then it began to contort into one of amusement as you tried to hold back your laughter, ultimately failing as a loud snort came out of you and you covered your mouth and shook your head. "I actually would have loved to see that." You said after having removed your hand from over your mouth and proceeded to giggle, your imagination bringing forth that image. Ragnar, sticking his hand under the sensor and waiting, nothing happening, waving his hand, then slamming his hand against the soap dispenser, then finally becoming so frustrated that he simply ripped it off of the wall, then shifty eyed, set it down and slid on out of the bathroom as if nothing had even happened. Oh, that would have been a sight.

You were about to turn and lead the way to the train when you noticed Ragnar looking down at you, his ever present smirk plastered on his face. "What?" you asked, your eyes shifting around for a moment. "Your laugh, I enjoy it. I am sure to make more mistakes, which I hope will make you laugh like that again." At first you thought that he was not serious, but the longer you looked up into his eyes, you were able to see the sincerity behind them. It was a good thing that you were not one to easily swoon, despite how gorgeous this man was...or how sweet the words were that came out of his mouth. He then held up his arm toward you a bit, clearly giving you permission to grab hold of his sleeve again to lead the way. Instead, you leaned to the side a bit, your arm and hand outstretched toward a sanitizing station and waited as it spat out foam upon your open palm. His eyebrows furrowed together as he watched you do this, and then you took his hands and lathered them up with yours, before you took hold of one of his hands and began to lead him toward the train door. Once the two of you had found some seats, you heaved out a sigh and sunk down into the cushion a bit, closing your eyes. Now that you were officially heading home, thoughts began to swirl within your brain of what to do next. What were you going to tell people, should they ask who Ragnar was? No doubt your friends and coworkers would check up to make sure that you had returned home safely, but now you had a man in tow. One that was strangely dressed, spoke in Old Norse (but thankfully knew some decent English), and also knew absolutely nothing about the world.

One thing was for sure: you needed to get Ragnar into some clothing that didn't raise questions, thankfully people that rode trains often saw some strange characters traveling, so the most you were met with at this point were questionable looks. First thing was first, once you were back in Copenhagen, you ought to take him to get some new (and modern) clothing. You knew that there was a nice vintage store not too far from the train station that you could easily walk to, and you knew that the staff there, while helpful, would keep from bothering you unlike a more upscale retail store. You took your phone from your pocket and began to type the store's website link into your internet browser, soon bringing up an array of clothing to the screen and you scrolled through them. Feeling a sudden pressure against your shoulder, you glanced over and up to find Ragnar leaning over from his seat to look at your phone, his eyebrows knitted together in curiosity. Smiling you continued to scroll with your finger. "See anything you like?" He tilted his head a little and then raised an eyebrow. "These are...clothes?" You grinned, still with your eyes upon the phone screen as you continued to peruse the selection. "Yes, you will need to have something different to wear, what you've got on will bring on a lot of attention in the big city." Ragnar gave a small snort. "What is wrong with attention?" "I just do not want to have to explain why you are dressed the way you are, why your hair is the way it is.." as you mentioned his hair, your hand went up and brought the braids forward a bit, looking at them more closely. You noted how it was almost like dreadlocks, bound together with cord down its length. Then your eyes went to the tattoos that wrapped around from one side of his head, around the back, and to the other side, your fingers moving from his hair to lightly trace against the patterns.

Upon looking at them, there was no mistake that they were viking tattoos, the symbols and patterns were some you had witnessed carved upon ancient relics and even upon parts of shipwrecked viking boats. There was speculation on how tattoos were done in ancient times, but there was no doubt that whatever method it was, it most likely proved to be quite painful. After a moment of further inspection of his tattoos, your eyes found his as he simply gazed down at you and you felt heat begin to rise beneath your cheeks, realizing what you had been doing. You quickly removed your fingers from his skin and cleared your throat, looking back down at the phone in your other hand. "I just do not want to have to deal with a lot of questions about where you came from, because it could go one of two ways: either they think we are both crazy and lock us up, or they will take you away and there will be no chance of getting back home." You said as your finger kept scrolling through the clothing site, until Ragnar's hand moved from his lap and took yours suddenly, bringing your attention back to him. He looked at you with what you could tell was concern. "You are serious?" You looked at his hand that was holding yours for a moment and then traveled your eyes up to meet his intense blue ones. "The world does not like things that it cannot explain." His blue eyes gazed into yours, searching them for more answers, but sadly you did not have anything else to give him other than what you knew. "It may sound silly to say this, but I think your best option when it comes to your safety, is to stay with me." Ragnar continued to look down at you, though his expression softened a bit and you felt him give your hand a gentle squeeze before he lifted them and held them upright between the two of you. You felt his breath against the back of your hand as he then said: "Then I shall not be leaving your side, y/n." It was a good thing that you were sitting down, for the way that he looked at you, and the way that he had said this, all but melted you into a puddle upon the floor.

The remainder of the train ride, you were able to put together a selection of clothing for Ragnar in your cart on the website. You purchased them and by the time that you both would reach Copenhagen and walk to the store, they would be bagged up and ready to go. Then the two of you just needed to hail another taxi and head back to your loft and at that point, decide what to do from there. The train eventually came to a stop and after letting everyone else get off of the train first, the two of you finally stood from your seats and headed to the doors, Ragnar close on your heels, apparently holding true to the whole 'not leaving your side' comment. You lead the way out of the train station, pausing for a moment once you were both outside and you turned to look at Ragnar, knowing that he was going to be in awe of the city that now surrounded you. He had been mesmerized from what he could see through the window on the train, but that was nothing in comparison to this. He did a slow turn, tilting his head to look at the tops of buildings and town homes and then finally he turned and looked at you, his mouth slightly open. "I promise, I will take you on a tour once we have had time to rest and for you to try on your clothes. I was just guessing on the sizes, so we will have to see what fits." You gave a nod of your head in the direction over your shoulder as you then began to turn to walk that way, Ragnar following suit. It didn't take long for you to arrive at the clothing store, where you asked him to stay right outside the door as you hurried in to get the bags of clothes. Thankfully nothing happened during the time it took you to do this, and Ragnar stayed put despite his escalating curiosity.

You held out one of the heavier bags toward him and he smirked, taking it from you and then followed after as you raised your hand as you stood by the edge of the road, a taxi pulling up alongside the curb not long after. Soon enough you were pulling up in front of the building that you lived in, quickly paying the driver before you motioned Ragnar to scoot out of the taxi, handing the bags that had been between you in the backseat. Then you dug in your satchel for your keys and opened the main door, holding it open for Ragnar, who had been tilting his head backward a bit to take in the height of the building before he realized you were entering it. He quickly followed after you, watching every move that you made as you went about checking your mail box in the main corridor and then headed up the stairs until you got to the top where your loft was. You unlocked the door and turned the handle, pushing the door open with your back and your foot a bit as you gave Ragnar a small smile. Once he came all the way inside, you let the door shut and then locked it once more, before letting the bags in your grip drop to the floor and you held your arms out to the side a little. "Well...home sweet home."

Tag List: @cullenswife @hypocritic-trash-baby @blueeclipsepaperstudent

*Gif not mine, credit goes to its' lovely creator: angelcb7

[takobaki]

⋆ ★Kalim x child!reader⋆ ★

༊*·˚ FILLER POST ༊*·

{One shot}

≡;- ꒰ °Kalim x child reader (PLATNOIC ONLY PLATONIC READER IS 5-6) °꒱≡;-

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◢✥◣ Synopsis: Kalim kidnaps a child to hang out CONFIRMEDDD!?!?!?! (Basically it lol)

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◢✥◣ Word count:

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◢✥◣ A/N:

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

◢✥◣ Warnings if any:

"Are you seriously going to do this? Now not only will I have to deal with a overgrown toddler, but also a actual toddler" Jamil hissed as he pinched the bridge of his nose, a already irritated expression on his face as he mentally prepared himself for all the trouble Kalim was about to cause

"Come on Jamil! It's going to be so much fun" Kalim cheered as he held the clueless child by their {Skin toned} hand, "I promise I won't cause you too much trouble" He cooed as he gave Jamil a pleading expression. With a annoyed huff, Jamil lazily crossed his arms, "You know what- fine. Just don't cause too much of a mess" Jamil relented, throwing his head back slightly as he rolled his eyes

"Thank you!!! I promise I won't do anything too bad!! Come on {Name}!" Kalim cheered, throwing his arms up before dragging the child away by their arm, rambling about things they could do "I swear- if Kalim hosts a party, I'm going to snap again" Jamil sneered before he begrudgingly followed the two

"What do you think! We could have Jamil cook food for the party-" Cutting himself off, Kalim let out a loud gasp, stopping in his tracks "GAHH! You got to try Jamil's food!!!" Kalim yelled, his eyes basically sparking with the excitement of the idea of sharing Jamil's wonderful cooking, "Your bound to love it!! It's so good!" Kalim continued, his mouth basically drooling with the mouth watering memories of his ''friends'' cooking. Jamil, standing from behind the excitedly sweet boy, clenched his teeth as he felt a vein pop, not feeling in the mood to cook extra meals.

"Kalim. It's getting late, Crewel is going to come and pick them up in a few hours. Do you really want to spend the little time left eating" Jamil knew that convincing Kalim to do something easy to clean up would make his day be easier, and oh how he needed a break. Being forced to take care of the child for an accident that Jamil didn't even start, was so annoying, and yet the child seemed to be keeping Kalim occupied which was the best choice for him.

"Oooh! How about I tell you about some of the stories that I was rold when I was younger! Their so cool" Kalim started gushing as he started shaking the child. Letting out a chuckle, the little kid playfully pushed away Kalim, as he boy started to practically coo over how cool the stories from his childhood were, making Jamil roll his eyes.

"And with that, the king was finally able to rule over the kingdom without any more fighting!" The white haired boy cheered as he finished reading one of his favorite stories to the kid. Surprisingly, even with all his shouting and excited words, Kalim was a pretty good story teller, and was easily able to make anybody feel woozy

And yet the child was still wide awake, their eyes as wide as someone whose just seen a horror movie. "Did you like it! I was told it when I was younger!" Kalim cheered as he clapped his hands together, making the child stare at him blankly.

Kalim had went on a bit of a tangent in the middle of the story, making the entire story very confusing, especially for those with short memories. Suddenly Jamil opened the door, expecting to see both Kalim and {Name} passed out, whilst Crewel stood behind him. "Aw man.. Does {Name} have to g-" But before the white haired boy could even get the chance to finish his sentence, Jamil interrupted him

"Yes. Come on Kalim, no buts too" Jamil said, tiredness lacing his voice causing Crewel to chuckle, while Kalim pouted

"But we were just starting to have funnnn" Kalim whined, wrapping his arms around the child who he and Jamil were supposed to be babysitting, in hopes of convincing Jamil and Crewel to let the kid stay for a bit

[honeyglz]

Trying something new.

A/N - Hello!! This is my little treat for valentines day, I was supposed to do more chars but I wrote this in like few hours and valentines is nearly over soo..... yea. Be warned now, this is purely based off a non smoker's pov lmao.

Reader - GN (you/your/yours). Side note: I tried to do a gn but if u see the odd she/her pronoun pls ignore it. This was vry self indulgent

Pairing - Smoker!GN Reader x Izuku Midoriya

Au - None Im aware of. Time skip maybe??

Disclaimer - I do not own any of these characters only my depiction of Y/N/the reader

Warning! - Mentions and use of drugs (from the reader and later Izu), Smoker!Reader, tension???? The author having never touched weed in her life, inaccurate portrayals of drug use (maybe?), kisses and stuff, low spice kinda vibe. !!!!I DO NOT CONDONE DRUG USE THIS IS PURELY FICTION!!!!

-♡- ✮ Izuku Midoriya ✮ To say it was late would be an understatement, but here you both were, sitting on a roof of some fancy party you both didn't seem to care for. It was drifting into unholy hours of the night and with each passing second the thick scent of the joint you were smoking began to linger abit more on Izuku's mind. It wasn't that he cared, no not at all! Infact you had made sure he was comfortable multiple times, asking him over and over before you lit the rolled bundle of weed between your fingers, effortlessly might he add. You continued talking to him casually and for that he thanked god because he was sure if you took a moment to pause you would hear his heart thumping against his chest. Or maybe you would notice how his eyes kept flickering back to your hands, how his pupils were blown and for a moment he held his breath when you finally lit the joint. He hated how nervous he was getting. He was a pro hero for Christ's sake! The pro hero infact. Izuku seemed to be in his own little world, not that you minded much. A comfortable silence fell over the two of you, clouds of smoke blown out into the midnight sky. You leaned back, head falling comfortably as you basked in the moons radiance before carefully turning your gaze to Izuku. Who by now was staring intently at you. Or more accurately the joint that hung loosely from your lips. So focused on the burning joint Izuku failed to notice the way your eye's fell onto his, forest green seemingly hazy under the dim lit night. It took him a fair bit of time before his eye's suddenly snapped up to meet your own, sheepishly trying to hide the pink coat of heat that radiated from his face. He stilled for a moment, trying his hardest not to rip his eyes from yours. You looked up at his fondly for a moment, before something swirled in your eye's causing the poor hero to gulp unintentionally. You took the blunt from your lips, holding it between two fingers, eye's still glued to his as you spoke. The words fell from your lips like silk, drifting lazily into the wall of a man you sat next too. "You wanna try?" It was a simple question, simple enough for even a toddler to understand but something about it certainly hadn't clicked in his head. Because if it had maybe he would have answered in words instead of the obscure noise he made. Somehow between a high pitched yelp of a teenage boy and a stunned cry of a bird he had managed to land what he was sure was the worlds most embarrassing "huh?!" He felt asif he had been caught doing something he wasn't supposed too and the way you were staring at him wasn't really helping either. Your heavy gaze was settled onto his face once more, corner of your mouth turned up in amusement as you looked up at him through your lashes, smoke drifting out from your lips as you took a long drag of the joint.

God. God. His heart was racing as he tried to still his jumping nerves. I mean certainly you were just being polite. He had to be imagining things, imagining the way your head tilted so innocently, the way you licked your lips like you were egging him on. The night was cold but he felt anything but; he felt hot. Too hot. A moment passed. And another. And yet another before you re-enforced your question once again. "Well? What'll it be, Deku?" His hero name sounded like hot honey coming from you. Sweet and burning in a way that only made him want, no, need more. He found the words before he could think a straight thought. "Show me how to do it-" he paused for a moment, firm tone melting away as he took a small breath "Please..?" Your eye's widened abit, no expecting him to agree by any means. But regardless your hand reached up to his neck, fingernails scraping along the soft skin his adams apple bobbed under your touch. Slowly you brought your hand under his chin, tilting his head down as his lips sat ajar. Your fingers were gentle as you directed him towards you more. Stopping for a second as you looked into his eyes, hooded with anticipation. "Are you sure you want to try? You don't have to ya know-"

He knew what you meant (to some degree), and in return he nodded holding a shaky breath as you searched his eyes for a moment before continuing; now bringing the joint to your lips. Taking your time you began to work your way through the joint. One puff at a time you inhaled as much as your lungs would allow, leaving Izuku confused as you placed down last of the blunt. Finally you looked back up at him, before guiding his lips parted lips towards your own. Thick and heavy the smoke filled his lungs as your lips meet his. He was shocked, words failing him as he stiffened causing you to pull away abit, nervousness overtaking you for a moment. That was until he pulled you closer. Returning your advance ten fold; a throaty whine leaving him softly. It was messy as he leaned in more, lips capturing your own hungrily. Greedily drinking in every drop he could get as your hand left his chin, opting instead to run through his thick green hair. Smoke filled the space between you both, passion and desire driving you before the need for air became more apparent than any of you would have liked. Hesitantly you pulled away, leaving the pro hero breathless, hair messy and eye's blown out. Frankly if anyone had asked you this was the best he'd looked all night.

You took a moment to catch your breath, regaining your composure before you turned your attention back to the green hair man. You smiled at him before grabbing the blunt once again; slyly holding it up as you spoke. "Want another try?" He nodded wordlessly, before you handed him the burning blunt. Laughing at your own little joke you wiped the tears that pricked the corner of your eye's before a large hand turned your head. Izuku looked less than amused as he bought your attention back to him. "C'mon peaches we both know that's not what I meant" he said almost pouting before you let out another laugh, faking your own shocked innocence. "Oh, it wasnt?" "No it wasn't." Again that same pout. "Oh well, guess it's too late now." You sighed as you grinned at Izuku, clearly enjoy the poor mans suffering. You turned you gaze towards the sky as Izuku begrudgingly took a hit of the joint. What you didn't expect was to once again find your lips on his, this time the smoke leaking from the corners of his lips. You didn't protest leaning into his grasp while he took the reigns, leading your face towards his. Hand caressing the side of your face nudging you closer to him as he drank you in once again, insatiably almost. You both stayed like that until the smoke subsided and yet again air became a problem. This time Izuku opting to pull away, leaving you chasing his embrace much to his enjoyment. Now painfully aware of just how cold the night really was you found that same smirk you held earlier plastered on Izuku's face. "Very funny Midoriya." You said with a playful roll of the eye's only him to hum dis contently. Looking asif he had swallowed a lemon he cringed down at you, causing confusion to bubble up onto your face. "What?" "Thats not my name." He stated simply, low and quietly asif he was afraid to say it any louder. "Not to you, not after this" You smiled, before pulling his arm over your shoulders enjoying the comforting weight. "Alright then, Izuku" He hummed happily, resting against you comfortably. "That's better. Next time say it a little louder. I wanna see everyone's face when they see how pretty you look saying my name." -♡- A/N - pls be kind this is my first time postin anything like this and be aware that I do not swite smut so dont ask. Thats about it hope u enjoyed <3 Comment your thoughts and thank you for reading !

[holdmytesseract]

Almost too Late

Tom Hiddleston x fem!Reader

Request: "okay, i've got a humourous one for you;

#48: “Where the hell have you been?”

#60: “AHHHHHHHHHH!" 

#64: “Here he/she is.”

so, maybe Tom almost misses the birth of his child, and Reader gives him absolutely chaos for it? 😂

love you, babe. 💗" - Requested by my wonderful friend @youlightmeupfinn from this prompt list! :)

Summary: You went into labour with Baby No. 2. This wouldn't be a big problem, if your husband Tom wasn't somewhere in Atlanta, on a boys night out - and you just can't reach him. Is Tom going to miss the birth of his second child?

Warnings: Pregnancy, labour, quite a few swear words and a lot of fluff!

Word Count: 2,3k

a/n: I am back, yay! :) Sorry guys, life had been utterly busy in the last few weeks... This request waited a looong time in my inbox to be written and now I finally made it to sit down and write this. Surprise, @youlightmeupfinn ! 🧡 This takes place in the same universe like this fic does, so I guess this one is kinda a part two? Anyway, I hope you like this one shot as much as I do! 🧡 All mistakes are my own!

Voicemail. Again. I hung up, groaning and cursing under my breath. "Oh, you are fucking kidding me now... Why isn't he picking up?!" I hissed, on the verge of throwing my mobile against the wall of our bedroom. I tried to reach my dear husband for hours. Tom just wanted to have a - what did they call it? A 'Marvel Mens Night Out'? Yeah, something along that. He wanted to have a night out with a few of his mates. Ben, Chris H., Chris E., Sebastian and Tom. Of course, I didn't say Tom shouldn't go. I was more than okay with it, since we were in Atlanta, Georgia for the last three months anyway. Why? Tom needed to fly to Atlanta to film the first season of 'Loki' - and me and Mia just went with him, since it was the city I came from. My parents still lived here, so we kind of combined work and holiday. After reassuring Tom a thousand times that I was going to be fine without him, he left. What I didn't think of, unfortunately, was the possibility of me, going into labour. Yup... Five years of marriage and an almost three-year-old toddler later, Tom and I were expecting baby #2. Mia was going to be a big sister - like, right now.

Once again, I tried to call Tom, but like before, I only reached his voicemail. "Where the fuck is he?!" I groaned, dropped my mobile on the bed and steadied myself against the wall, breathing through another contraction. I gave Tom a last try, before I decided to call Ben. "Please pick up, please pick up, please pick up." I mumbled to myself. Sure, I could've called my parents, but they were in bed now, with Mia hopefully sleeping deeply next room. Ben's mobile rang and rang. I was already on the verge of hanging up, but then I heard my man's best friend's voice urging to my ear. "Y/N?" "Ben! Finally! Where is Tom?! I tried to call him, but he didn't pick up." "Uh... He just left for the bathroom, I think." Ben sounded slightly tipsy - which caused me to roll my eyes. Not now, guys, not now, I thought. "Okay and where are you boys?" I could hear the others laugh and talk rather loudly in the background. "In a bar in, uh, Columbus." I frowned. "In a bar in Columbus? Columbus?? Why the fuck there?!" I only now realised that I spoke way louder than I intended to... "Is everythin' alright, Y/N? You seem a bit... tense?" That was the point when I lost my nerves. I had absolutely no time for this. Not after trying to reach them for hours! I gritted my teeth, feeling how the anger build up inside me. "Oh, I don't know, Benedict. Maybe it's because I AM IN FUCKING LABOUR SINCE HOURS AND MY HUSBAND IS UNATTAINABLE!" And suddenly there was deadly silence at the other end of the line. "You're what?" Said Ben in a small voice, almost rueful. "You heard me, Benedict." Another beat of silence passed, before I suddenly heard loud shuffling. "Boys, Y/N's in labour, we need to get Tom somehow back to Atlanta! As fast as possible!" And then everybody talked at once. 'Tom! Get Tom!' was the only sentence I understood and it came from Hemsworth. Apart from that, was everything that happened on the other line a blur, until... "Tom asks how you are feeling." Ben's voice reached me once again. "He asks how I feel? Really? I am in labour! How does he think I feel?!" Again, was the other side of the line deadly silent. "We'll be right there, I promise!" "I'll hope so! If not, I am going to cut off his balls. Tell that Thomas!" With those words, I hung up, squeezed my eyes shut as another contraction rolled over me. Somehow, this time felt even worse than last time... At least I could try to relax a bit, now that I knew that Tom was on his way. After taking deep breaths, breathing through the contraction, I called an ambulance. They came immediately, of course and took me to the hospital. I was very glad that this was not the first time for me. To have the experience and to know the procedure and what maybe could happen, helped me ease my mind a lot. Especially since Tom wasn't by my side - yet.

Thirty minutes later, I was brought to a room, had changed into the familiar hospital gown, got hooked to an CTG and was checked by the doctors. "Alright, Mrs. Hiddleston..." The friendly female doctor in the white clothes smiled at me. "Everything appears to be like it should be. You and the baby are perfectly fine - according to the circumstances." She adjusted her glasses and scribbled something onto the clipboard she held. "But you are not yet ready to deliver your baby. We have to wait a bit longer. Although, I guess not that much longer, 'cause your labour is progressing very fast." The doctor gave me another small smile. "Until then, I am afraid we have to wait and see." With these words and a last smile, she left the room, leaving only a super friendly midwife - Mary - behind. "We are going to check on you and the baby regularly. But you already know that." Mary said, winking at me. "Yeah... I am very glad to be a lot more experienced now than I was last time with my daughter. Makes me feel calmer. Despite the fact that Tom isn't here..." Mary's eyes softened. "I was already thinking... Where did you leave your husband?" I sighed. "I allowed him to go out with some of his friends, told him I was fine, but well... Baby's got different plans." Mary laughed. "Let's hope he's going to make it in time then. Call me if you need something, yes?" I nodded, offered her a smile. Then I was left alone and I absolutely hated it. To spend the time I had to wait for my body to prepare itself for the birth alone was absolute torture. I missed Tom and I wanted nothing more than to have him by my side.

It was a curse and a blessing, that labour progressed so fast. Two hours later, I found myself surrounded by nurses, doctors and Mary, of course, ready to bring mine and Tom's second child into this world. I wasn't afraid of this, no. Maybe nervous, yes, but what I definitely was, was in pain and angry. Angry at my sweet husband who didn't sit by my side, holding my hand and just being there for me. No, instead sat Mary by my bedside - what wasn't bad, god no... Bless her for bearing with me. But it just wasn't Tom... "Okay Y/N, if you feel the urge to push, give into your body!" I nodded quickly, sweat already dotted all over my forehead from the previous contractions. While you were about to bring a new life into this world, stormed a man with long, pitch black hair through the main doors of the hospital, on the other side of the big building. Tom...

The father-to-be ran down the halls of the 'Emory University Hospital Midtown' like a madman, bumping into several staff members on his way. "Sorry, I am so sorry!" Tom said what felt like thousand times in five minutes. Unfortunately was the hospital quite big and Tom struggled to even find the maternity ward. So, he had no other choice than to stop his frantic search and ask a nurse. "I'm sorry, can... can you help me?" Tom, who was still out of breath, approached a nurse with short chopped blonde hair and tattoos up and down his arms. The man looked up at Tom, offering him a polite smile. "Of course, Sir. What's the matter?" "I-I am looking for the maternity ward." He panted, trying to catch his breath. "My... My wife is in labour." The nurse nodded and immediately gestured for Tom to follow him. "Follow me, Sir. I'll get you there. It's not far from here." The two men crossed another few hallways, before they finally reached the destination. "There we are." "Thank you so much." Tom smiled kindly at the other male, who gave him a nod and a smile himself in return. "No problem." Tom didn't lose another second and jogged down the ward, on search for someone who could help him along. After all, he hadn't a single clue where Y/N was...

After he had rounded the second corner, he stumbled over a woman who appeared to be a doctor. "I'm sorry?" He addressed the female, who turned to face him immediately. "I'm Tom Hiddleston and I am looking for my wife, Y/N." The corners of the woman's mouth lifted into a smile. "Ahh, so you are the missing dad?" Tom scratched the back of his neck, smiling awkwardly. "Well… I suppose that I am, yes." "Well, come on then." Tom followed the doctor hastily down the sheer endless, white hallway. "D-Do you know by any chance how my wife is doing?" Dr. Miller -  the woman's name, how Tom was able to read on her nameplate, nodded. "She is doing fine. Labour progressed very fast." At those words, Tom felt his heart sink. Progressed? Did that mean...? Dr. Miller seemed to read from his expression what he was thinking. "Don't worry. You didn't miss the birth of your baby - yet." This took a load off Tom's mind and he breathed out relieved. "This way." They turned another corner and came to a halt in front of a closed door. "There we are." After Tom quickly slipped into a scrub, he was granted access to his wife. Barely after the door swung open, was the first thing he heard a heart-breaking scream, coming no doubt from Y/N. It caused Tom's mind to spin, his guilty conscience immediately spoke up. This was his wife, being in pain, bringing his baby into this world - and he hadn't been there for her. "Mrs. Hiddleston, I found the missing dad." A voice suddenly cut through the room, causing my head to turn to the left. I didn't even notice that somebody had entered the room. Well, I was quite a bit too busy to pay attention to who entered or left the room. My eyes met the female doctor I had shortly seen earlier and- "Tom!" I cried out his name, unbelievably happy and relieved to see him. As his name left my lips, he immediately jumped into action, rushing to my side. "Darling!" Mary quickly stood up from the chair and made way for Tom. He sat down on the chair, hands instantly reaching for my hand. He wanted to say something, but the next contraction I had threw a wrench in the works. I squeezed the living hell out of Tom's hand and shut my eyes. "I need you to push, Y/N." Said the nurse, who sat at the bottom of the bed. "AHHHHHHHHHH!" This contraction was by far the worst I had yet. And it sparked something inside me, brought the anger on my husband back to life. After I had breathed through the contraction, I unleashed hell on Tom. I turned my head towards him, staring at him. If looks could kill... Tom swallowed visibly, well aware of what was to come. "WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN?!" "Darling, I-I am so s-sorry, I-" He stuttered, trying to explain. "Shut the fuck up, Thomas! I suffered here for over two hours, plus almost five at home alone, to give birth to your child and Mr. Hiddleston just decided to not pick up his phone when I called him!" Tom swallowed once again, his mind reeling. I could tell that he was picking his next words very carefully now. "I know, my love and I am really, honestly very sorry. My phone ran out of battery-" Wrong words. "That is no excuse, Thomas!" The man beside me flinched every time I used his full name. "I know, Y/N. I should've told you. I-" "And why Columbus?! Why did you and the boys needed to go to fucking Columbus to drink a stupid beer?!" Tom sighed and hung his head. "I can't apologise enough, darling. I deserve all your wrath. I hate that I wasn't able to be by your side, but now I am here and I won't go anywhere. You are doing so wonderfully in bringing our second wonder into this world. I can't be prouder of you, my love." By now, I had tears in my eyes. This time not from the pain. His words had pulled at my heartstrings. Why did that man always find the right words and was so utterly charming? This wasn't fair. I wanted to be mad at him... "Ugh, you fucking sweet-talker. I wanted to be mad at you, but now I can't." I said, pouting. Tom's expression shifted immediately and he snorted out a laugh. "Oh darling, I love you." I shook my head and rolled my eyes, but smiled.

The rest of the birth went rather smooth. Unlike with Mia, I didn't have an epidural. I wanted to do this all natural this time. With Tom by my side, everything was easier anyway. And so, Tom and I were able to welcome another baby girl into the world, only an hour later.

"Here she is." Mary announced, smiling and placed the tiny girl, who was wrapped up in a thick pink blanket on my chest. As soon as my skin came into contact with my new-born baby, the tears started to fall freely. "Hello, my sweet girl..." I whispered, unable to tear my gaze away from her. I felt how Tom pressed a kiss on my forehead, before his bigger hand joined mine, wrapped around the little girl in my arms. Time seemed to stop. This was a moment just between Tom and me. "Welcome to this big, wondrous world, Lily." Tom said with tears glistening in his eyes.

[chuuyrr]

Can I request for an alternate universe one? Soo this got me thinkinggg is it ok if you could do another universe where gojo and baby scarlet witch switched roles? Like baby scarlet witch is gojo's adopted mother and gojo is a kid in that universe. Arigatou!

mama! scarlet witch! reader feat. baby! gojo

jujutsu kaisen x reader

masterlist of the series

warning(s): major spoilers for jujutsu kaisen and wanda maximoff's backstory, alternate universe, wandavision parallelism, themes of angst and comfort, grammar (not proofread!)

guess who finally found time to write and post today? :D this request is so cute and interesting! thank you so much for requesting and for being patient, i hope i was able to fulfill your request and ready some tissues <3

you weren't supposed to be in this world of jujutsu sorcerers and curses, but after the events of westview as well as having of dealing with the multiverse and coming into terms of your mistakes and past, you wanted nothing more but peace and that's what gave you the idea of residing in their world as a form of solitude.

when you first resided in their world, you chose to live a normal, domestic life. this is the kind of life that you dream of having with your husband and children. sure, it was lonely, especially now that they're gone, but it is what they would have wanted for you, right? for you to find solace. it was a repetitive cycle at first, you'd wake up, eat, occasionally do something different, then sleep—that was until you met him.

it all started when you saw him enter your café along with a servant. you took note how he seemed to come from a rich and big family. you watched him excitedly run up to the sweets in the glass display as his servant chased after him. you couldn't help but giggle at how bubbly the child was.

"woah, look at all these sweets!" the white haired boy claimed in awe, smiling.

"don't run, gojo-sama! where are your manners?" the servant lightly scolded him, causing the child to stick his tongue at her.

"hello, sweetie. what would you like?" you knelt down to his height, smiling ever so kindly at the boy.

you watched his eyes widen as they turned towards you. a soft gasp escaped his lips and it didn't take long for him to get all shy with a blush across his cheekbones.

"h-hi!" he fumbled over his words, causing the servant with him to stare at him in shock. the young master had always had a sharp tongue that was accompanied by his arrogance and mischievous, so she was in awe at how polite and shy he became to you.

"see anything you like?" you asked, glancing at the sweets in your display.

"you! i want you to be my mama!" the snowflake haired boy exclaimed, causing you to gasp as he suddenly threw his arms around you to latch onto you.

the servant attempted to yank him away from you. "gojo-sama! stop that! that's rude. you're making her uncomfortable!"

"i-it's alright. i don't mind." a soft chuckle erupted from your lips as you stood up and cradled the boy in your arms.

"sorry, miss. you see, gojo-sama's mother had long passed. you must have reminded him of her." the servant dipped her head into a respectful bow.

"ah, i see." you frowned at the thought of the young boy losing his mother at a terribly young age. it somehow reminded you of your own mother. how you had to lose her and your father so soon.

ever since that day, the snowflake haired toddler started coming into your café not only to have his servants buy him a staple of sweets, but just to see you and since then, you started looking forward to having him. he was a very clingy baby, sometimes his servant would have to yank him from you because he was clinging onto you while you were working.

you'd give him free sweets from time to time and listen to him ramble to you about his day. you genuinely loved his company. it brought you comfort and made you a bit better, especially after you had lost your own children.

you had no plans of having another child, especially not after what happened, but the moment you locked eyes with his aquamarine eyes that were filled with tears that day when he stumbled into your café without his servant, you knew you had to care for him. due to the big three family's dispute, you took the boy, who you learned was named as gojo satoru, under your custody. with your connections in the jujutsu world, especially with master tengen, as well as little satoru's strong desire for you to look after him, you saved him from the hands of the clan who were burdening perfections and expectations on him in order to give him a good childhood. you were easily given the role of raising him, the future-head of the gojo clan.

raising satoru was a bit of a handful, but not as much as the big three clans were giving you. all of them were devising ways on how to get you affiliated with them, even resorting to having someone from their clans court you to marry you so they could get an heir who has your 'special cursed energy and technique'.

of course, you declined. you genuinely had no interest.

anyway, back to your little snowflake. satoru was always bouncing up and about, zooming everywhere and doing all kind of crazy things. he was a bundle of mischief and sunshine, but even so, you loved him. he was your hope, the second chance that the universe had bestowed upon you. however, they were times wherein it still hurt.

satoru reminded you of billy and tommy, and sometimes you'd have thoughts of how your dead sons would have loved to have satoru as their little brother, and how vision would have loved to have a third child. although the past and those thoughts of yours would flood and overwhelm you, your little snowflake was there to help you. he became your light in darkness.

"mama? are you okay?"

it was one of those days wherein you felt vulnerable to the bone, wherein you were overpowered by the burdens of the past and of your overthinking. you were in your room, knees to the floor as you cried.

"i'm okay, snowflake. i'm okay, see?" you immediately wiped away your tears and smiled at satoru, not wanting your adoptive son to see you in such a vulnerable state.

"mama, you don't have to hide anything from me. it's okay to cry."

with that, satoru trotted towards you and hugged you ever so tightly like he'd usually do. satoru tucked his head under your chin and nuzzled into your embrace. you felt your heart clench at his words and actions. god, what did you do to deserve him?

your lips quivered, "s-snowflake?"

satoru perked up at his nickname. he pulled his head out that he tucked underneath your chin as he embraced you. "yes, mama?"

you gently pulled him away from you and took hold both of his hands before carressing his cheek lovingly as another set of fresh hot tears filled the brim of your eyes.

"thank you for choosing me to be your mom." you mustered out before breaking down.

a smile graced satoru's lips and before you know it, he latched onto you again and this time, gave you a big sloppy yet very affectionate kiss on the cheek.

"i will always choose you to be my mama and i will always love you! more than infinity!"

you found yourself giggling and smiling as you returned satoru's embrace.

"i love you too, snowflake."

in time, you knew everything will be okay, and that's because you had satoru! you'll do everything you can to make him happy and raise him the best you can. you weren't going to let your second chance go to waste.

[a-pretty-nerd]

Choose Me

Viktor x afab!fem!reader

Chapter 8

Summary: Your past tends to haunt you when you die.

Chapter 7

Warnings: VIEWER DISCRETION IS ADVISED! Several discussions of suicide, death, description of a corpse, intense emotions, funerals, etc.

A/N: I am sorry this took so long for me to write, I've got some new hyper fixations and some big life changes. That being said, I didn't want this story to end with the last chapter because let me tell you, I have a bunch more planned. This is the point where canonn is going to be changed and tweaked a little bit, not a crazy amount. This chapter I tried to make it feel like the flashbacks of the character's childhood kinda like how the show does. Here's hoping we get a season 2!

Happy laughter filled the hallways of your family home. Your hands gripped the stuffed dolly you brought with you everywhere. It seemed so much bigger then, when it was half your size. Your small feet dressed in your house shoes padded gently across the carpet. Your smile stretched so far across your cheeks it almost hurt.

Elated, and excited you ran down the hall calling for your mother. Searching in every room, your happy little voice echoing throughout the home. Your bright eyes darted through rooms in search.

"Momma! Where are you? I wanna show you something! Momma!" You called. Your little hand reached for the door, throwing the door open as you had every other. Your mother floated within. "Momma! Look what Dadda brought- me-"

At first all you saw were her feet. Dangling. Her dress started just above her ankles, a bright but muted blue shade you would never forget. Her dress was new. Pressed and perfect, as if she had prepared to go somewhere. Your eyes followed up her floating figure as you came upon her blank and lifeless face. That was not your mother. It was her shell.

"Momma..." you called her in hopes of her springing back to life. Your father saw you from down the hall and slowly approached. Upon seeing his wife he threw the door closed and held you tight. You remember beginning to cry and asking for your mother. Asking where she was, demanding her. You were 8 years old when your mother passed away.

You stood there and watched them slowly lower the casket into the dirt as it began to rain. Your father's heavy hand resting on your shoulder. You didn't cry then. Still in a state of shock. The memory of her, hung over you like a cloud. Her lifeless body dangling there in thr darkness like a phantom. It would never leave you. Night terrors become frequent and relentless. You become compelled to visit her grave, but your father denied your request. He suddenly seemed, uninterested in you.

Being ignored gave you the freedom to sneak out for the first time as a child. Making your way through the dark foggy streets of Piltover till you came to the gates of the Cemetery. You wondered through the headstone like a ghost until you came upon her freshly placed grave. You laid down, and clutching yourself tight, you fell asleep. No night terrors came. Peacefully you slept under the stars in what felt like your mother's familiar embrace.

This became a regular occurrence when you couldn't sleep, you would run to your mother's grave. Like a toddler wanting to sleep in their parent's bed at night. It almost became routine, until a servant found you missing from your bed and a search party was set out for you. Your father found you, and snatched you away. A harsh wakeup prompting ungodly screams from the 8 year old child. You sobbed loudly, screaming for your mother.

Your punishment was a girl's correctional school outside of Piltover. The old brick building towered over you. At first you had it in your head that you would run away, but crushing failure after crushing failure only landed you more time. The teachers were old and bitter. The students were young and angry. You still have a vivid memory of a bully breaking your nose by slamming your head into a desk. You got in trouble for that one.

When father did send for you on holidays, you came home to an idealic paradise he'd prepared. Anything you wanted was yours. On the condition that you behaved and did as you were told. Be polite. Be sweet. Be still.

The years of conditioning peaked when you grew into a teenager. Finally you were allowed to attend school on Piltover, taking etiquette classes alongside your usual. You threw yourself into your studies. Not out of genuine desire but out of expectation. You excelled where you found interest, but generally kept good report all around in a bid to please your easily upset father. It worked. All your work was paying off.

Quickly you were swept into the circus of the media. Where your youth, beauty, and reputation took your position on the pedestal and firmly raised it to absurd proportions. Your father grew comfortable. Grew trusting of you.

Now, you're falling. Falling down, down, down, onto the cold brick road below. Your clothes are ripped and flowing in the wind reaches out alongside your trembling hand. Your father's face, his expression, burns into your eyes so that it is still there when you finally close them. It's true what they say, life flashes before your eyes before you die. You regret to see that Viktor is but a small part of your short story.

But the memory of his smile and the way he looked at you when the two of you were all alone is so sweet it's painful. It hurts, just about as much as hitting the ground does. The abrupt sound of your body making impact, the loud crunch of your bones signals your demise. And like that, the world goes black.

You didn't expect death to be so dark. So endless. So lonely. You feel like you're still falling. Falling deeper and deeper into the darkness. Floating even. Aimless. There are times when you think you hear voices, but it too drifts away as soon as it appeared and you never hear a recognizable word anyhow.

So you float.

Viktor sat at his desk as per usual. His head hanging low, the pain in his bones visibly taking a toll on him. His hand gently shook as he tinkered with a jammed gear, trying desperately to pull them apart. Jayce is nowhere to be found in the lab, it is just Viktor mindlessly tinkering. He can't focus, for once in his god-forsaken life he is wildly distracted. Your face. It flashes between his thoughts. Betrayal and hurt are written all over your face. Your voice, begging, pleading for him to do something. Instead, he just stood there and let Jayce handle it. It makes his stomach turn, and it makes his heart feel heavy. He resolves then and there that he should go to you and apologize. Perhaps, he would buy you something nice for once. A gift. Some flowers maybe?

As he pushes himself away from his desk, he hears the door to the lab open. Heimerdinger peaks in, his brow hanging firmly over his eyes. He looks glum. In his little hands, the morning paper hangs limp in his grasp. His eyes shift from the floor up to Viktor.

"Professor?" Viktor asks, concerened. He doesn't respond, instead, he steps forward and slowly makes his way over to Viktor. Upon closer inspection, Viktor realizes the tears in Heimerdinger's eyes. Viktor becomes confused. The short man offers him the paper in his hand, followed by a sad sniffle.

"My condolences, my boy." He mutters. Viktor takes the paper and looks it over. A picture of your shining face smiles brightly but disturbingly as he reads the article title:

Beloved Airess Commits Suicide

Viktor stares at the title and shakes his head. As he reads the article, his brow slowly scrunches above his eyes. His expression curls in horror and is quickly replaced by denial.

"This can't be right. I just saw her last night, I- This- This can't be true. Y/N wouldn't-" The words catch in his throat as he continues to read. His fingers grip the paper and begin to crush it in his grasp. He brings the paper to his head as tears begin to fall down his cold, pale cheeks. They fall onto the paper as he attempts to cover his face. Heimerdinger reaches a hand to place it on his arm, only for Viktor to swiftly move it, gently shoving him away.

"I'll leave you, then. But please, if there is anything I can do-"

"No. Thank you, professor." His voice was firm. Heimerdinger nodded and saw himself out of the lab. As soon as the door shut behind him, Viktor buckled to his knees. His head hit the floor and he began to sob, holding the picture of you printed all over the paper firmly to his chest. "It can't be true. Please, let this be a dream- please- Y/N-" he hiccuped. He didn't hear the lab door open, he was startled from his sobs when a familiar voice called his name.

"I see you've read the morning paper." Your father's dark eyes met his.

[wlwmarvelenthusiast]

Babysitting Duty

Summary: while Scott and Clint are away on a mission, you and Wanda are stuck with babysitting duty

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Warnings: some harsh language

Word Count: 5,117

"Your asses had better not leave the yard, got it?"

"Please don't swear at the kids."

"They're being little shits!" You insisted.

Wanda glared at you from where she was sat on the couch, cradling two-year-old Nathaniel, who had fallen asleep in her arms a few minutes ago. You scowled back at her as you moved to the other seat, closer to the open window, so that you could see and hear Lila and Cassie running around in the backyard. Lila ducked into the shed for a moment, re-emerging with a soccer ball. She kicked it toward Cassie.

Clint and Scott had taken up an offer to go on a mission with Natasha across the country. You didn't pry as to why she needed them specifically. Laura was in Los Angeles visiting some family, meanwhile Maggie and Jim were taking a vacation in the tropics. That had left Scott and Clint in need of a babysitter, and you'd been volunteered for the job. Now, you and Wanda were stuck at Clint's farmhouse for a few days until Laura got back. You were only in charge of Cassie, Lila, and Nathaniel, with Cooper having gone to stay with a friend while his parents were out of town.

"Why don't you go put him down?" You suggested to Wanda, the scowl on your face replaced by a soft smile.

Wanda shook her head. She didn't even bother to stand, instead simply laying him down on the couch they were sitting on. He whined a little as he left her arms, but after she'd stroked his head a couple times, he settled as soundly as he had been. She stood and crossed the room, sitting down next to you. Your arm moved around her waist and she leaned against you, legs curling up to her chest. You kissed the side of her head as you glanced out the window quickly to check up on the girls.

"What do you think about what Tony said?" She asked quietly.

You turned to stare at her. Her light green eyes flickered up to meet your gaze. It put a smile on her face. Her hand reached for yours, taking it and intertwining your fingers. You played with her hand.

"One day."

After getting the babysitting gig, you hadn't exactly been ecstatic. You were an Avenger, not a babysitter. Anytime Clint and Scott weren't around to hear, you'd repeat those words to whoever was close enough to listen. Most of them got that. They thought the same. It's why everyone had tried so hard to avoid the two men for those few days. When you'd gotten stuck with it, Natasha had even gone so far as to laugh at you.

You were good at avoiding. You'd practiced it all your anti-social life. So, it wasn't your fault that you'd be assigned babysitter. It was Wanda's. Clint had managed to corner her one day. Their relationship was a strange one. He'd cared for Pietro, and Pietro had cared enough for Clint to give up his life for him. Now, the surviving Maximoff and the archer had some sort of bond. That bond had made it impossible for her to say no to babysitting the toddler that was named after her brother.

Stuck with two kids anyway, you figured you might as well take care of Cassie at this point. Once you'd been nominated babysitter, though, Tony had taken it upon yourself to never leave you alone. It seemed, for those few days after you'd agreed to take care of the kids, Tony was around every single corner. You wouldn't have been surprised to learn he had been using the security cameras to keep track of you, because no matter how hard you tried to hide from him, he was there.

He was teasing you relentlessly about your having to babysit. Unlike the rest of them, Tony wasn't teasing you because you, an Avenger, were stuck with a 16-year-old high schooler's job. He was teasing you because you were stuck at a nice little home in the country with three kids and your girlfriend. He insisted, every time he saw you, that this was going to be good practice for your future. Wanda had blushed furiously the first time he'd said it. You'd shooed him away.

As much as you hated dealing with the billionaire and his stupid smirk when he'd approach you to tease you about practicing for your own kids, you would deal with it. Wanda would always turn away with a tomato-red blush burning on her cheeks, and so you would always find a way to give her an escape to stick around and take Tony's taunting yourself. Mostly you just ignored him, but he was persistent if nothing else.

Tony had driven you absolutely mad with his stupid suggestive tone and heckling comments. That was undeniable. Sometimes, you even wanted to take him down to the ring just for a reason to drive your fist into his gut. But after a long day of work and having to hear him go on and on, you'd climb into your bed, or sometimes Wanda's, fall asleep for the night, and dream up the pictures that he'd painted into your head.

There were two or three kids. One of them was always a boy. You were just getting home from somewhere, and Wanda was in the backyard of your house, watching the children play. The boy would be with one of the other kids, but when you approached Wanda and slid an arm around her waist, he'd run up to you. You'd ruffle a hand in his hair, and he'd giggle, light green eyes casting up to look at you. He had Wanda's eyes. You'd reach down and pick him up, kissing his cheek as he continued to laugh.

"Hi, Momma," he'd say.

"Hello, Pietro," you would reply every time. "Were you good for your mom today?"

Then he would nod and squirm a little, desperate to get back to his brothers or sisters. You'd set him down on his feet and he'd dash back to the others. You would lean into Wanda, then, kissing her softly. She would kiss you back, just as gently and lovingly as she did in your waking life. No words would be exchanged as you guided her to the bench swing, pulling her close and smiling as you both turned to watch your children laugh and play together.

It was just a dream, and it was entirely Tony's fault, you were sure. He'd put the idea of a family into your head and now you couldn't get it out. You'd always known you wanted kids and, even though you might not have known her all too long, you knew it was Wanda you wanted them with. She was your everything and you wouldn't want anything without her. Your future didn't exist without Wanda Maximoff.

"I've seen those dreams you've been having."

That honestly didn't surprise you too much. She'd seen your dreams on occasion. You'd learned that when you'd woken up absolutely drenched in sweat one night after a particularly inappropriate dream involving a particular witch. She'd watched your eyes open and immediately straddled your waist, promising to make your dream come true. You hadn't gone back to sleep that night, and it was clear as day that she had seen every single detail of that dream.

She was a mind reader. It wasn't hard for her to see just what was going on in your head; conscious or not. So, as you slept, she was able to see those images of you and she with your cozy little house and little Pietro smiling up at the both of you. It didn't surprise you, but it did make you a little nervous to know she'd seen them. You didn't want to seem like you were rushing into things at a pace that she wasn't ready for. You would wait forever for her.

You'd talked about it with her before. It was nothing too serious. It had been a simple conversation, the two of you discussing where you thought you might be five or ten years down the road. When you'd talked about it, the two of you hadn't been dating yet. You'd just been friends, both wanting to be more. It had been a quiet night, and you'd wanted to take her mind off Pietro, who had died only four months earlier.

Wanda pictured her future as a quieter life. She wanted a nice home on a quaint little street where she wanted a family, someone to love and maybe a couple of kids down the road. She'd told you she wasn't sure yet, if she wanted to continue being an Avenger. She hadn't always been fond of the sort of action you guys saw, but she knew she had the power to help people. Her heart was good. She couldn't just ignore that fact.

Your vision had been a little different. You were absolutely sure that you wanted to continue being an Avenger. You were a hero through and through. You couldn't imagine a life where you weren't doing what you did now: keeping people safe. You wanted to stay in New York, but maybe moving out into the suburbs in the outskirts of the city. You, too, wanted to start a family someday. Avenging could be a day job, you'd assured.

Then you'd gotten together. You'd admitted your feelings, you'd gone on some dates, and quickly, you'd fallen deeply in love with her. That dream of a future was still one you had: An Avenger by day and a wife and mother by night. At some point, though, that woman you saw yourself having that family with had become Wanda. Suddenly, you couldn't see it any other way. For a long time, you'd kept that from her. Now, though, she knew, and you were glad she did.

"What do you think of it? The dream," you asked carefully.

Wanda didn't answer right away. Her eyes had cast out the window to watch Cassie and Lila run through the yard, passing the ball between each other before Cassie turned and kicked it into the net. They both cheered loudly, raising their arms in the air, smiling widely, and high fiving. Their excitement made Wanda smile too. Her gaze turned back away from the yard and back to you, searching your face carefully. You let her study every detail of your eyes.

"I think it's beautiful."

Any life with her would have been beautiful. Anything with her was beautiful. You were absolutely sure Wanda Maximoff was the most beautiful thing in the world and there was nothing that could have changed your mind. The Avengers teased you sometimes. Natasha had teased one day, that you looked at your girlfriend as if she were the most exquisite piece in an art museum. You'd only assured her that no piece of art ever held a candle to the Sokovian.

"Would you..." You trailed off and took a breath, trying to figure out just what you were asking. "Would you consider it one day?"

Wanda didn't hesitate a millisecond. "I don't have to consider it. One day, Sweetheart."

That warmed you to your very soul. You put your hands on your cheeks and turned her face toward yours. You pressed your lips together, the feeling never failing to make your eyes flutter shut. You savoured the so familiar taste of her against your lips as you let your hands slide; one moved to the back of her neck to hold her close, and the other came to rest on her thigh. It wasn't a long kiss. It didn't need to be. It only took a few seconds to convey to her something words never could.

"How many?" She asked.

You laughed. "Two or three? What do you think, Baby?"

"Three," she hummed softly.

You couldn't believe that Tony was fucking right. Here you were with the woman you loved so dearly, babysitting your coworkers’ kids, and imagining having ones of your own someday. You had to admit, you did like it. They were a bit of a handful, that much was for sure, but you loved it. You loved watching their smiles, watching them play and laugh, and joining them in their fun and games. You loved seeing how Wanda would sit with them, cradle Nathaniel close, and read the girls bedtime stories. The thought of having this with her made your heart swell.

"Alright, where would we live?" You asked with a soft laugh.

"We'll stay near New York," she assured. "My big strong Avenger."

You laughed when she teasingly squeezed one of your biceps. You flexed a little, pressing the muscles against her hand. At this, the touches to your arm weren't so teasing. Her fingers traced the lines of the defined muscles that lay beneath your skin. You breathed out a quiet laugh, grabbing her hand and gently kissing against her knuckles. Her hand hesitated at your mouth as she ran the pad of her thumb across your bottom lip.

"Port Washington?" You offered. "Maybe a little way outside the city or in northern Jersey? I know you want to raise a family in a small town and New York City isn't exactly that."

She pressed her lips against your neck for a moment. "I love you."

You breathed out. "I love you, too."

She pulled away, moving to touch your knee instead. You put a hand over top of hers, turning to check on Cassie and Lila again. They'd taken to sitting in the grass, leaning against a tree trunk, and talking quietly. You weren't sure what about, but you were just glad that they seemed to still be having a good time. You slid Wanda's hand off your knee so that you could stand up.

"I'm just going to grab a snack for the girls," you kissed her cheek. "When I'm back, you can let me know if you've got any more ideas for this life of ours, huh?"

Wanda nodded.

You moved into the kitchen, opening up the pantry and putting together a couple of PB and Js, cutting them in half and setting them on the counter. You then mixed a few glasses of lemonade, put everything on a tray, and headed briefly back to the living room to hand one glass to Wanda, before heading out the back door. You whistled merrily, catching the girls' attention. They both smiled at your approach, and you settled into the grass beside them.

"For you."

They thanked you repeatedly, taking a plate and a glass each. You took your own glass, sitting back and sipping it as the cool breeze blew through your hair. You crossed your legs, watching their girls bite into their sandwiches. You tried to think back to what you'd been talking about at their age. You'd been in grade school and had often been in the schoolyard with your friends talking about boys. Well... they'd talk about boys and you would hesitate and make something up because you didn't know who the hell you liked.

"So, what are we talking about today, girls?"

"Lila was just telling me about a boy named Sam."

"Cassie!"

"What?" Cassie defended. "She's not gonna tell!"

You nodded. "Cassie is right, kid. I'm the best secret keeper probably ever."

Lila seemed to ponder this for a moment. It was a blatant lie, though. Every secret that was told to you was also told to Wanda, but it didn't go past there. You couldn't keep things from her. It was like she could pull anything from you with just a simple gaze from those light eyes. Even if you didn't tell her, she was a mind reader. Either she'd hear it from your lips, or she'd hear it running through your brain at one point or another.

Lila seemed to be contemplating this. "Okay. Well, there's this boy in my class. His name is Sam. I really like him."

"Oh, yeah?" You asked, sipping your lemonade. "So why don't you tell him that?"

"No! I can't tell him."

"Why not?" You scoffed. "What's the worst that could happen, Li? He either likes you back or he doesn't."

You'd always had trouble with your own advice. If you admitted your feelings to someone and they told you they didn't feel that same way, you felt awkward for months after that. But you were an adult. Lila was eleven. Even if kids these days were growing up way faster than you did, you knew that things were a lot more complex when you were a little more grown up. In a year or two, then she'd start realizing that.

"What about you, Cas? Any boys in your class you've got an eye on?" You winked.

Cassie didn't seem to find this very amusing though. Suddenly, it seemed, her sandwich wasn't very appetizing, and the lemonade had lost its sweetness. Her gaze moved to somewhere no one could meet it, locking to the ground as her fingers began playing absentmindedly with the grass. You tilted your head to the side curiously. You glanced over at Lila, but she didn't seem to know the reason for this either.

"Lila, could you give us a minute?" You asked the older of the girls. "Why don't you go see what Wanda is up to?"

Lila nodded and scampered off. She ran to the house and in the back door, and you watched in the window as she appeared beside Wanda. You saw her explaining something to the Sokovian, likely just trying to express that her friend was upset. You turned your focus to Cassie, who was busying herself by pulling a few blades of grass out of the ground. You didn't try to stop her, the fidgeting obviously calming her anxiety.

"What if..." She took a deep breath as she trailed off. "What if I think I like like a girl?"

Cassie Lang was ten years old. That's around the same age you started wondering what the other girls saw in boys. You hadn't realized as young as she did that you'd liked girls, but you knew something about you was different. At that age, you'd thought maybe something was wrong with you. It had taken you a few years to realize you weren't broken, just different. It had taken you even longer to realize that was okay.

You knew Cassie probably felt more comfortable asking one of her babysitters this question than anyone else. She trusted her parents and her stepdad, and she loved them, that much was clear. With them, though, she watched a man love a woman. With you, she watched you love Wanda the same way Scott loved Hope. She watched you do something she was feeling in herself. It made everything seem a little more normal and a little more okay. You knew that much from experience.

"Cas, look at me, Sweetheart," you said gently. Cassie looked up at you. "You can like whoever you want to like, and you can be whoever you want to be."

"But at school, all the girls like boys and I don't. Why don't I? I just want to be the same."

"Because not everyone is the same, and that's okay. You don't think there's anything wrong with me, do you?"

"No."

"No. And I love a girl. Isn't that okay?"

"Yeah."

Maybe it was a bit of a guilt trip, but it got Cassie to look up. You watched as her eyes travelled from you, to Wanda, and back. There was no longer any trace of nerves or anxiety on the young girl. It had instead been replaced by curiosity. It seemed your little pep talk had actually worked. She seemed more at ease after assurance that she didn't need to be normal. You knew that wasn't it for those nerves, you even got them yourself once in a while, but you were glad to have put her at ease for a while.

"Kiddo, are you going to talk to your mom or dad about this?"

As honoured as you were that you'd felt to be a safe person to come out to, you weren't really the person that she should be going to for support. Her mother and father would give her that. You didn't know Maggie well, but you knew Scott. He would be unconditionally supportive and wouldn't hesitate to reassure her if she ever felt like this again and if there were someone who didn't, he'd make sure to immediately remove that person from their life.

"I think I'm gonna talk to my dad when he gets home. Can you talk to him for me?"

"I can give him a little heads up, but you're going to have to be the one to actually talk to him."

She took a deep breath but nodded. "Okay."

You smiled proudly.

You sat with Cassie for a little while longer in that spot. Following your conversation, she seemed to be feeling better. She was eating and drinking again as she told you a little about this girl she was sweet on. You didn't comment too much, smiling and nodding along as she told you stories about the schoolyard. Soon enough you were once again trading places with Lila. The two girls resumed their gossiping in the grass, and you moved back to sit with your girlfriend once more.

When you sat down next to Wanda, glancing at a still sleeping Nathaniel as you moved, you immediately turned to the window. The two preteens had already regained that same calm expression they had been sporting earlier. Satisfied that they were both alright, now, you turned back to Wanda. She was watching you carefully, eyes flickering down to peek at the smile on your lips. You beckoned her to come back against you like she had been before you left.

"You and Cassie seemed to have quite the heart-to-heart," she hummed quietly as she leaned back against your side and your arm snaked around her.

"She confessed she might have a crush on a girl."

Wanda raised an eyebrow. "Yeah? Well, I see why you were a safe person to confess that to."

You chuckled and kissed the side of her head. "Yeah, I do, too. I gave her a little bit of reassurance before telling her she should really talk to Scott or Maggie."

Wanda nodded in agreement. She reached out to the table to grab the glass of lemonade you'd made for her, sipping it quietly. The cool glass pressed against your arm when she lowered it, sending a shiver throughout your body. She seemed to notice this, as she laughed, moving the cold cup up to your cheek. The condensation that coated it transferred onto your skin and you frowned, pushing her hand away. She laughed a little harder.

"So, what did you come up with?" You asked her. "I seem to remember asking you to come up with some more details."

"You did. So, I wondered what Pietro's siblings' names might be?"

You froze. That was from your dream. You knew she'd been seeing it, but you still got a little curious when she brought up the more minor details. You turned to look at her, curiosity burning in your chest. Pietro was her brother, not yours. You wondered briefly if she even wanted to name any children she might have in the future after the brother she'd lost.

"Pietro," you repeated softly. "Is that okay?"

"Fuck, Honey."

Wanda rarely swore, so when she did, you knew she was feeling something strong. You were assured it was a good feeling, though, when she grabbed you and pulled you toward herself roughly. Your lips connected and you felt the intensity in her kiss. You didn't dare be the one to pull away from this, letting her show you how she was feeling through the intimate touch. When she finally did, her hands were immediately in yours.

"Thank you. He meant the world to me and you mean so, so much to me, too and... thank you, Honey."

"You don't have to thank me, Baby. He deserves it," you assured, a hand on her cheek. "But did you have other ideas too?"

She nodded. "I did. We'll obviously discuss more when the occasion arises, right?"

"Right," you agreed with a laugh. "So?"

"I like the name Tommy. It's cute, don't you think?"

"I do think so," you hummed.

You don't know what it was, but something had you so drawn to her in this moment. You wanted to pull her close and never let her go. Granted, you wanted that most of the time. Right now, though, the thought of releasing her from where you had her flush against your side, her head resting so softly on your shoulder, made your heart feel a little weaker. As if she could feed that absolute need radiating off of you, she kissed your shoulder and put her hand into yours, squeezing tight.

"Any girls' names you like?"

Wanda stopped to ponder. "Violet."

"That's cute too," you smiled at the thought of your family. "You're pretty good at this, my dear," you paused for a moment. "So, Pietro, Tommy, and Violet Maximoff?"

She hesitated at hearing that. Her head moved off your shoulder, and you immediately missed the lack of pressure. You had to suppress a quiet whine as you glanced over at the curious eyes that were peering at you. You cocked your head to the side, in the movement, willing her to tell you what was going on inside her head. You felt as though her eyes could see into your very soul with the way she was watching you.

"Maximoff," she finally said.

"Yeah. I like it," you told her. "And doesn't my name sound so good with your last?"

You didn't even have to say the name aloud. Just hearing it in her own mind had a shiver running through her body- something you felt it against your own. She didn't have to say aloud, either, that she loved the idea. You knew she did. You both did. It was something that made you entirely hers. You were entirely hers. You belonged to Wanda Maximoff and her last name attached to your first would prove that to anyone.

"One day," Wanda said, repeating the words you'd spoken earlier. "One day you'll be my Mrs. Maximoff."

It was your turn to hesitate at those words. You were both talking about this as if it were inevitable. As far as you were concerned, it was. You couldn't even picture a life that didn't have Wanda in it. You didn't want to. You wanted to be her wife and live in a small house in the suburbs and raise children with her. You wanted all of it so bad you could hardly fathom it. You turned to her, making sure to catch her eyes.

"Did we just get engaged?" You teased.

You hadn't, but you had. All engagement was, was a promise to be each other's and to get married. There was no time limit on that. In the last little while, you'd promised that to each other. You had both promised each other this entire life that you could see laid out before you. Neither of you had been discussing it as if it were a possibility, but more as an inevitability. That sure sounded like a promise to you.

"I don't know," Wanda admitted. "We agreed we'd get married one day."

"Yeah," you agreed. "We definitely did."

Then you decided to make it less of a question as to what had or had not happened. You slid away from her and stood up off the couch. You took a knee on the floor, bringing her hand into yours. Your heart was thumping so loud in your chest that you had to wonder whether or not she could hear it from where she sat. Judging by the way her eyes widened, though, you thought that maybe her own heartbeat was drowning it out.

You didn't think this was how you'd do this. Sure, you'd many times thought about how you'd one day propose to Wanda. In none of those scenarios was she sitting on the couch in Clint's living room whilst Nathaniel slept ten feet away with Lila and Cassie's giggles floating in through the window. They were usually a lot more romantic than this. You couldn't find it in yourself to care. This was the moment. You could feel it.

"So let me clear up the confusion," you offered, eyes not leaving hers. "Wanda Maximoff, I cannot picture my life without this little suburban house and these sweet little kids and you, my love. I will walk to the ends of the Earth and back for you. I'd give you my heart and my soul in an instant if you wanted me to. Will you marry me?"

Wanda didn't seem to be able to find her voice. Her expression was one of shock. Her jaw had dropped a little, and her eyes were wide, watering a little. You wanted more than anything to reach out and wipe those tears away and to kiss her cheeks, even if they weren't tears of sorrow. But your knee was glued to the floor until she gave you an answer. She seemed to collect herself, then. Her hands wiped at her eyes, her lips curled into a smile, and then, finally, she nodded.

"Yes. Of course, yes."

She pulled you back onto the couch. It might have been a little far, with your knees on either side of her waist. The two girls could have walked in at any moment. But you were so completely happy that there was absolutely nothing that would have stopped you from resting your arms on her shoulders, linking your hands behind her neck, and kissing her like you needed her more than you needed oxygen in your lungs. You supposed you might have. She finally pushed you away.

"I love you."

"I love you, too, beautiful fiancée of mine," you teased. "I guess Tony was right then, huh? The babysitting gig was good for us."

She laughed and then buried herself in your embrace. You held her there, not a single care in the world, knowing she was yours and you were hers. One day you would have a life a little like this one. You and she together with a family of your own and so much love around you.

It was all thanks to the stupid, stupid babysitting gig.