#Perfectly Tainted Miracle Au | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

junkissed · 1 year

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for the made up fic title thing: what about…. “such haunted halls we walk” 👀

or if you want something silly: “i put the ‘ass’ in ‘astrophysics’” ddssfhhgdhjfh

HELPMNKJDFSN 😭 i'll put this under a cut bc both of them got kinda long hehe

also fair warning the first one is soo sad pure angst there is not a hint of happiness skdgjfs skip to the second divider if you don't want to read it

send me a title and i'll tell you what i would write for it!

ooh i really like the first one!! i'm thinking a historical au. some kind of period piece a la jane austen featuring vernon as mr. darcy and it's super angsty, kinda like a cautionary tale about life and love and loss. it's told in a series of flashbacks as he walks down a hallway in a house; even though it's daytime outside, the curtains are drawn and it's just dark and dreary, reflecting his mood as he looks at each portrait hung on the wall and thinks about the memories that should be good and happy, but they're tainted as he looks back on them and remembers all the bad things that came afterwards instead. i'm thinking at the very end there's a reveal that's like, you ended up parting ways, not for some big, dramatic reason, but you just fell out of love with him and you didn't want him to feel like his love for you wasn't reciprocated and that he deserved someone who would give back to him all the love he has to give. it was such a clean break that he shouldn't have any reason to be so melancholy (it's not like you cheated on him or ran away with his brother), but it's such an unsatisfying end that he almost wishes you'd had a huge argument and blown up at him; he wishes he would have some reason to be mad at you, to hate you, but you did nothing wrong but give him a chance to experience what it feels like to be loved, because that's something you knew you wouldn't be able give him. so like a theme throughout this one is that in each painting and each memory he looks back on, he's remembering it and wondering when exactly you stopped loving him and why didn't he realize it sooner. ooh actually adding on, maybe he used to be a semi-successful painter and people would hire him to paint their portraits, but after you left he hasn't been able to pick up a brush since, and everything he tries to create comes out dark and tangled and choppy, nothing like the beautiful, bright, joyful paintings he used to make. so not only does he lose someone who brought love and joy into his life, he lost the ability to create art that captures that love and joy. so for the rest of his days all he can do is walk that hallway, staring at the portraits that remind him of better days and wishing he would've known some way to make you love him back.

(tagging @duhnova for this one i want u to suffer cheol thots) okay ass-trophysics is about economics major seungcheol who has to fulfill his lab credits and of course he waited until the last possible second and every other class was waitlisted so the only class available is an analytical physics class. by some miracle the prerequisites for that class are ones he's already taken for his degree and his schedule lines up perfectly for him to take this class. reader is a physics major or something so this class is required for them. you show up bright and early on the first day of the semester and you're getting out your notebook and laptop and stuff and in walks this insanely built frat-looking dude with the fattest juiciest ass you've ever seen in your entire goddamn life, and he plops down in the seat next to you and introduces himself like he isn't the most gorgeous man you've ever seen walk into a math classroom. and the semester goes on and you kinda become friends but not really friends more like classroom friends yk? and you know cheol is smart as hell but for some reason he just doesn't understand this one concept and it sucks because the entire course is pretty much built around understanding this concept. and so you try to help him pass the class and you start becoming closer, and maybe you have a crush on him but you really definitely don't btw. later maybe there's an angsty run-in with an ex girlfriend who makes all these crazy threats and tells you to stay away from him because she knows he'll come back to her, he always does, and you're like "girl i'm literally just helping him learn physics wtf do you want from me please" and she's like "i know what you're REALLY doing... back off" and so you're like. jesus okay fine whatever. so you start making excuses for not being able to help him on the weekends and evenings and days off anymore and he gets pouty and sulky like :( my bffp (best friend from physics) what did i do? and one day he's had enough and he finally manages to corner you at your favorite place to eat on campus and he's like. tell me why you're avoiding me. and you're like "well tell your dumbass girlfriend to stop sending me death threats and i'll help you with your hw again" and he's like "??? what girlfriend i haven't dated anyone since i met you at the beginning of the semester" and so you describe her and cheol lets out the biggest longest most aggravated sigh and he explains that she is his ex but she's literally insane and he has no intention of getting back with her ever and then more drama etc etc but then FINALLY they get things figured out, there's a big moment where he passes his final and you go to hug him but he goes in to kiss you and it's 🧍‍♀️ Awkward and he gets all shy and pouty again and your face is so damn hot and you're like "why did you just try to kiss me" and he has this whole speech about how he really appreciated your help over the semester but he was hoping you would go out with him because he thinks you're really smart and pretty and he just goes on and on about what he likes about you and you're just standing there shocked thinking. this man with the ass of a kardashian is professing his love to me in the middle of a starbucks and a barista is definitely giving me the side eye but oh my god yeah i kinda really do wanna kiss him and then 🫶 kissing happy ending etc etc

#🌃 : june.writes #🌠 : ask games #savventeen #im sorry the vernon one is so angsty PLS i dont know where that came from but i love the concept of an austen vernon #i would never write it bc i cannot do angst ksjdhfsj but i feel like it would be fun to play around with perspective and-#-narration and motifs and the symbolism of color and things like that yk?#also for cheol im an english major skhdgsh i hope its not obvious i have zero understanding of math and science 💀#fun fact ! the bffp thing is a real thing my high school physics teacher used to tell us 😭 mr. berg i miss u dearly #also also if u would like an emoji just lmk!! i see u around occasionally <3 hi i'm june btw

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puredivinity · 3 years

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a moonlit confession | eren jaeger

❣︎ hi hi!! welcome to the longest thing i’ve written and a project that was spawned by, and added onto by @jean-does-not-have-a-horseface and @gojosweets. i adore them very much and without them, i probably wouldn’t have done this ngl. this is a very not historically accurate greek mythology au <3

❣︎ warnings: nsfw (18+), very slight breeding kink, mutual masturbation, cunnilingus, handjobs, very soft post return sex, slight and non-descriptive mentions of death. it’s also unedited.

❣︎ word count: 3.2k

To you, there is nothing worse than yearning for your lover.

A lover that you are unsure of.

Wondering if they’re okay, if they’re breathing, if they’re alive. If they’ve made it out in one piece, physically. It would be a miracle if they made it out whole mentally, knowing good and well how harsh the trials of battle are. You remind yourself that he is tough, and that he is strong. He is your warrior; your love, your beauty, your grace. He is there for you in all realms, despite not being there physically. You are together forever and always, in spirit and in body.

The wind blows the fabric of your gown, picking it up off the floor of the balcony beneath you. The coldness of the surface causes you to hiss when your feet make contact with it, but it’s quickly pushed to the back of your mind, buried beneath the flurry of uprising thoughts. Where is he? You wonder, painful thoughts tainting your mind. Your fingers curl around the rail of the balcony that overlooks the rest of your dwelling -- the beautiful home Eren’s parents had gifted you as a present of your union. The union of which they blessed and honored.

The moonlight tonight was of no other night. It shone brightly and beautifully, high up in the sky. It overlooked you, basking you in its glow. It illuminated all that was high and below, and it became your beacon of hope. For when Eren was gone, the moon was what you turned to. He was your sun, and you were his moon. It is what he told you the night before he left; your last night together where all you could do was hold one another, love each other, cling on like your last thread of life. It could’ve been his, for all you know.

“I miss you,” You speak out into the wind and it carries your words with its breeze, high and low, but not forgotten. “I miss you so much, Eren, I--” your words halt there, fearing the worst. Fearing to speak the worst, fearing to think the worst. In your heart, you know he is alive. You feel it in your bones. But your mind is a different story. You cast your eyes downward to gaze into the everclear pool of water below you, tracing the fountains with your sorrowful gaze. It is clear enough that you can see your own reflection, down to every detail. Every tear that pools and threatens to spill down your cheeks, the glossy and gloomy gaze your eyes hold -- all of it.

You are about to make a plea to the highest god when you make out a face beside yours, that looks strangely like Eren’s and strong, sturdy arms engulf you from behind.

At first, you don’t believe it. It feels unreal, although it is all you have ever wanted. All you could remember wanting since he had left you.

His eyes met yours in the pristine water below you and your heart leapt in your chest. It smelled like him, looked like him, and even felt like him. The familiar arms he held you in, day and night, day to day, night to morning. The whisper of your name was careful against your skin as he pressed your body to his, fingers breaching the thin fabric of your gown. He was still clad in his armor, bronze and firm, and you wonder if it hurts him.

A kiss is pressed to the side of your neck. He is trying to get you to look at him, to bless him with those beautiful eyes of yours, but you will not. He wonders if you’re mad at him, but one glance at the way you’ve melted into him tells him otherwise.

“I’m here,” he confirms, pulling away from you and slowly turning you to look at him, “Do you see me, Princess?”

Of course you see him, you think, but do you really see him?

You have missed him for forever and ever, yet you cannot speak a word to him. You have imagined speaking to him, loving him for days on end, and you cannot say a word. Perhaps it’s the shock, or the sheer bewilderment you feel, but regardless - you are speechless, and rightfully so.

He takes your hand in his, carefully brushing the back of yours with his thumb as he brings it up to his chest. He places it over his bare chest, armor long removed, resting in the place it used to be. Right over his heart, right where his heart thumps in his chest, Where it pounds in his chest, where it lives in his chest. A sign of life that you almost mistake for your imagination, no matter how real he may feel.

But then, you feel it. You feel it the second you look at him, the second your eyes stare into those beautiful jade green orbs. And you fall. Your tears came quickly, rushing out of you, and it is then that you step forward and wrap your arms tightly around him, ear pressed to his chest. You feel him. You see him. He is real. He is your lover, and he has returned to you.

Eren wastes no time in embracing you just as tightly, if not more. His hands clutch the material of your nightgown, and it brings him down to earth; grounds him like no other. It is a warm feeling, the feeling of recognition, the feeling of familiarity, the feeling of being home. But it is not one that he would ever, ever want to relinquish.

“I love you,” the words fall from both your lips at the same time, desperate to tell the other what you couldn’t just hours prior, “I love you so much.”

He sweeps you right off your feet and right up into his arms, walking you backward to the balcony of which you just left, and standing firmly between your spread legs. He leans forward and engulfs you in a kiss, hands working their way from up your shoulders, where he takes his time in caressing you -- fingertips making sure to hit every groove and smooth in your skin -- down to your waist, thumbing your gown. You fear not for a second that you will fall, for your utmost trust is placed within him. And so, you use the balcony for leverage as he works you, sighing prettily into his mouth while he strokes you.

His fingers carefully undo your ties, the silk threads sliding off and undone, leaving you bare to the moonlight above you. And, oh glory, is it a sight. Eren pulls away from you, admiring the way you look underneath it. The soft glow of the light hits you well -- the way your chest heaves, rising and falling with slightly labored movements, the way your lips are parted with light breaths from the kissing, the way your hair is splayed perfectly behind you, and you are perfect in that moment.

Your beauty rivals that of Aphrodite, and even then could you give her a long run for her money.

He presses long, open mouthed kisses to your warm skin, leaving behind a beautiful sucking noise as he did so. He moved from shoulder to shoulder, to your collarbone, gently nipped at a few pieces with his teeth, basking in the delightful noises you offered him. Drinking you in like he was ravenous, hungry for your touch, your breath, your everything. For you were his rain on a dry night.

You had just one worry in the midst of it all - the servants. They would come to certainly check on your wellbeing, they usually did so around this time of night. You reached a hand to softly push him off and he looked up at you, eyes full of concern.

“The servants,” you breathed, but he only shook his head at you.

“I dismissed them earlier, before I came,” he quelled your worries with a gentle whisper, soft eyes staring right back into yours. “They won’t be back, Princess,” He assured you, and his words washed away any uneasiness you felt prior. It washed over you like a wave, pushing any bad feelings away from the surface - leaving him a clean slate to build on.

After a nod of confirmation from you and a soft thumb stroke of his cheek, he continues. He realizes how much he has missed you, and it hits him heavier than it did before he returned. It is now, when you are underneath him and those pretty moans and soft cries of his name come from you, that he truly understands the weight of your absence. His absence from you.

Warm lips kiss from the middle of your collarbone, stopping at the top of your cleavage where they rest for a while. A moment in which Eren is sure to look up at you, to catch your gaze before he continues. Through your half-lidded stare, eyes hazy with want and fervor, you meet him. Eren takes his moment to press a chaste kiss to the top and give a soft bite of love to the raised flesh of your right breast, before taking your nipple in his mouth. His tongue brushes over the pert bud, dipping the center of his tongue to get it right, to make your back arch in that special way. And it does, so beautifully, pressed flush against his front as you sigh into the air, eyes fluttering shut in complete and utter bliss. It is your first time together since he has returned, and it is all about you. Forever about you.

You call out his name, and he releases your drenched bud with a soft ‘pop’ of his lips, sliding over to the other one. The ends of his hair brush your skin, igniting a trail of goosebumps to follow. Your hand moves from its place on the balcony to rest on his shoulder, softly digging your nails in the flesh of his back. You call out to him again, rocking your hips slowly while he takes his time with you. He is careful, he is gentle, but oh goodness is he a tease. He is leaving you itching, wanting for more, almost so bad that you’re willing to beg, but he would give it all to you. Give it all for you.

You do not have to ask, he will deliver.

“I love you,” he says to you when he pulls away, his hands flutter down to your thighs and lifts them off the ground and up over his shoulders. He sinks to his knees and presses a kiss to the inside of your thigh, all while maintaining eye contact with you. He can feel the heat on his face; the warmth of your arousal, your want for him.

Eren curls his hands around your thigh, holding your legs open for him. And then, he takes you. He licks slowly up your slit, glicking the tip of his tongue over your clit a few times. He laps and laps at you, drinking in your taste and flavor as it simmers on the flat of his tongue. Your moans emerge into the wind, and for a second you wonder if the servants can hear you. You experience a shadow of embarrassment at the pleasureful noises you’re making, for you’re sure they know what you’re up to by now, but it’s pushed out of the way by Eren. He pulls you right out of your head and back to him, and it’s then that you notice that you’ve been unconsciously grinding on his face.

You go to shoot out an apology for your actions, but Eren stops you before you can even say a word.

“Come for me,” he utters, yet you hear him loud and clear, “Come for me, Princess.” His request is more of a plea, urging for you to unravel beneath him. Your heart flutters at his words, and you comply. His soft spoken words send you falling over, your release washing over you in short and smooth waves while you sigh into the wind. His name falls from your lips over and over, and he continues his actions until you give him a gentle nudge to stop.

He’s pulled you from beneath the surface of the water, and he’s clutching you carefully, like a seashell on the sand.

Until he’s ready to dip you back in again.

Eren rises back to his feet, letting your legs fall from his shoulders until he picks them up and curls them around his waist. He is face to face with you again, and you can adore him. The way his eyes shine, brightly with his love for you, the slickness of his lips from devouring you, and the way he tastes when he kisses you -- it is unmatched and unrivalled. It is one like no other.

Your legs are secure around him, holding him tightly and locking in place so he cannot leave. As if he would leave. He whispers a declaration of love for you, one that you’ve heard a million times before but cannot tire of. One that is music to your ears and overpowers any and every other thought you have. Your center of focus is him, and his is you.

Hands thread through his locks, settling at the base of his scalp. You press them between your fingertips while your forehead rests upon his, gazing into his eyes and drinking him in like an oasis. The sight of him is beautiful. He is beautiful. Your lover, your one and only. You have to admit, war did him well. He was a sight to behold, a vision to see. One you want to treasure.

Your hand falls to where he is hard beneath your touch, running your finger up the length of his bare shaft. He shudders underneath your feather light stroke, and his eyes plead for more. For you to touch him, for you to love him. And you do.

Your hand wraps around it, tugging slowly and steadily. His hips sway with your movement, rocking with every twist and maneuver of your hand, following it perfectly - syncing with the rhythm. His moans are beautiful, you think, and in htat moment you want nothing more to please him, and to show him the same love he showed you. Your hand still rests in his hair, fingernails lightly scratching his scalp. Lovingly, you gaze at him. You admire him for what he is while he sits in the heavenly moonlight, keening perfectly for you. You can tell he is close - he knows he is close, but he stops you. A gentle grasp of your wrist stills your hand, and he tells you, “Inside.”

You nod and retract your hand, allowing him to shift between you and he sits at your entrance, head slipping between your folds. The slick of your core coats it, as trails past, ensuring to brush your clit - one, two, three times, each time eliciting a noise louder than the previous one.

“Eren,” you sighed his name, and his eyes glimmered with delight. He let out a pleased hum, continuing for just a second longer before he pressed a kiss to your lips in compliance, soaking up the gasp that escaped you once he’d reached it. His right hand cupped the back of your knee and his left perched upon your thigh, eyes focused on you as he entered you. He watched your face contort in pleasure when he did so, and his grip on you never relented.

He sank into your core, pleasurable keens falling from him, mixing with your similar sounds of delight. You felt wonderful, and so did he. He gave you two slow, short thrusts to further bury himself in you, and his breath fanned your face. He sank in fully, holding still for a moment. Holding still to breathe in this moment, to enjoy the feeling of you after being without you for so long.

Eren remembers the time he was without you - he was out, fighting for war, fighting for peace. One by one, he watched his comrades fall, in front of his very eyes. It was horror on those battlefields, on those streets. He was terrified of the thought of meeting the same fate they did. The same misfortune they did. Throughout his time fighting, throughout his time away, all he thought about was you and how he could not wait to come home.

And now that he is home, he doesn’t want to leave. Not alone. He doesn’t want to leave without giving you something to remember him by, without starting something with you. Without giving you the family that the two of you had always dreamed of, the one that he promised you he’d return to the night before he left. What you two laid awake in bed talking about, when he kissed your fingertips and honored you with a promise, honored you with his word. He’ll be damned if he goes off without that.

He pushes your body up against the railing of the balcony, still holding your leg open and he pulls out, dragging himself slowly out of your dripping heat, and then pushes back in. You moan, and your eyes fall down to where you connect with him; become one with him. Eren moves his hips with purpose and desire, thrusting steadily in your throbbing heat. He fills you, spreading your walls wide with every thrust, every movement, and you feel that unmistakable flutter in the depths of your belly. He hits it just right, tip fluttering against the spot that had you teetering, hanging just over your release.

“Eren,” you moaned his name and nearly melted at the look he gave you, “I love you. I love you so so so--Yes!” you babbled, not caring how loud you got or who could hear you. Eren felt your words with his entire being, pleased to know that you felt just as good, if not better than he did. Pleased to know that he was the source.

“I wanna put a baby in you, ‘Rincess,” he tells you, as he picks his other hand up off your thigh, and moves it downward to your slick folds.

Eren used his thumb to rub your swollen and puffy clit. “Come for me,” He pleaded with you once more, “Come for me, please, Princess.” Two short rubs did it in for you, and a string of pleased cries with his name fell from you as you came. His eyes never left yours as he filled you, and spilling himself deep inside of you.

The comedown was pleasing - the two of you remained like that, holding each other for as long as you possibly could. A thin layer of sweat coated your bodies, but neither of you cared. You were happy to just be in each other’s arms after making peaceful love.

“I want a family with you,” Eren confessed to you, and his confession took you by surprise. “I don’t want to leave again. Not without a family, not without the thing we’ve always dreamed of. You deserve that.”

His moonlit confession.

tagging: @levilaughlove69, @proseofpandemonium, @starstruckkittensweets, @rainteslerrrr, @alrightberries, @redhairedace, @jean-does-not-have-a-horseface, @jaegerbrat, @asterroidd, @imonmylastthreadofsanity, @hexbestfriend, @thethyri

#eren jaeger x reader #eren jaeger smut #eren jaeger x reader smut #eren x reader #eren x reader smut #eren yeager x reader #eren yeager x reader smut #aot x reader #snk x reader #aot smut #snk smut #tw: breeding #tw: breeding kink

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autisticandroids · 3 years

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Oh patron saint of mpreg, tell us, what is the absolute gold standard canon divergent mpreg scenario with Cas and Dean?

so for me the gold standard is for cas to get pregnant due to some kind of magical or metaphysical situation that dean at least does not perceive as sex. bonus points is cas is hesitant about it but refuses to explain why (because he doesn't know how dean will deal with the concept of himself being able to potentially get cas pregnant), so dean is like "we're doing it anyway" and then they do it and then cas doesn't tell anyone that he is pregnant until circumstances force the information out of him. and then dean has to deal with the fact that 1) cas can get pregnant, 2) cas is pregnant, 3) it's his, and he does so pretty poorly.

the rest is under a cut because this post is over 2.5k words long.

my favorite times for this to happen are at the end of season nine, just before dean dies and gets demonized in do you believe in miracles, and at the start of season twelve, just before sam and dean go to jail, because the pining in both those scenarios is delicious but it is so much more powerful if cas is also pregnant, and never even told dean. double points if the truth somehow comes out while they're separated so when dean comes back it's like. yeah cas is pregnant. it's yours. welcome home dean now you have to coddle cas' emotions because he thought he would have to raise your baby alone.

the season twelve scenario is particularly delicious because 1) we can have lucifer slut shaming cas in front of crowley in rock never dies, so crowley knows before dean, and 2) much more importantly, mary is there, and i am obsessed with like. okay. several things.

- the idea of mary getting all baby fever because she misses her boys and this is like. a baby she can take care of because she never got to take care of sam

- the idea of dean working through some of his parentification trauma by coparenting a child with the parent whose place he felt he had to take

- the idea of mary coming in and projecting her insane 1980s gender roles all over cas, suddenly treating him like a woman, stripping him of agency, etc. and like. dean would also do this even though he's not from the eighties, but mary would do it double strength, and they would reinforce each other, it would be a nightmare

- also mary trying to relate to cas on the Travails Of Motherhood etc. and cas being like ?????????? like i cannot stress enough that the weird gender roles she projects onto cas are also standards that she held herself to back when she was a Wife And Mother. while cas is like mary i am not a human woman and also i don't see what "having to look pretty for my man when i'm all baby bloaty" has to do with anything. that's not something i feel like i have to do

oh and 3) could you imagine lily sunder has some regrets if cas was pregnant? unfathomable episode. like ishim and mirabel's reaction but ALSO lily's. and it would fix the number one issue i have with lily sunder, which is that the resolution of the moral dilemma is "well AKSHUALLY the kid was human and not a nephilim so killing it was bad" rather than "it was bad to kill lily's baby, full stop." like ishim's cover up and using the machinery of power to manipulate the truth is very compelling, but the fact that it results in the moral essentially being "it would have been okay if the kid had been a nephilim" suuuuuucks.

basically, there's a reason i have two entire mpreg aus set in season twelve.

and then the delicious part in the season nine version is like. one, dean is away for much longer and he could be anywhere. also he's a demon and he's cheating on cas with crowley. and then even when cas gets him back he's still cursed with the mark, so we can get all weepy over that. you know. i'm the one who's going to have to watch you murder the world and i'm eight months pregnant. etc etc.

but the other thing that's juicy about this version is that cas is still semi-involved with the other angels at this point, like he's roadtripping around with hannah and they're trying to get heaven under control, so carrying a nephil is going to really affect those relationships. so he's going to be probably disliked by the other angels, and there are MANY opportunities for slut-shaming, but at the same time, the other "outcast" type angels might respect him for violating heaven's dictates.

and then of course there's his grace vampirism victorian wasting disease. in canon he's perfectly happy to let himself die, but if he were having dean's baby he would absolutely not do that, that's dean's baby he's endangering there. so of course there's the terrible guilt of having to kill other angels so he can live, plus potentially preparing to die shortly after childbirth so he doesn't have to keep killing. delicious.

and on top of all this cas can get slutshamed by metatron in, depending on when exactly he gets knocked up, meta fiction, stairway to heaven, and do you believe in miracles. plus stairway to heaven would be insane like all the angels would know that cas is pregnant. they would see it in his grace. like cas' angel army would just. know that he was pregnant with a nephil, and have to accept that because he's their leader. in love with humanity indeed.

i'm trying to think of other good times for this drama with cas getting secretly pregnant through a nonsexual interaction to take place. it would be great in season six. like: he's doing a blasphemy with his body but at the same time he's this big important rebel leader so they can't say shit about him, and also he's pregnant while fighting these big important battles (fun and sexy), AND this is like, hot on the heels of the realization that something about his feelings for dean is untoward, expands beyond the bounds of ordinary friendship and camaraderie. like he realizes that, and maybe even that he has sexual feelings for dean, and then he gets immediately knocked up. stunning.

it would ALSO be extremely fun for it to be some kind of... i don't know, magical longer gestation times, whatever, but for cas to have gotten pregnant sometime in s5 and only realized during the Year Of Lisa. LOVE to watch a man rake leaves while both metaphorically carrying the taint of taboo sexual feelings for him and literally carrying his child.

but the thing about season six is, first of all, cas isn't really... envisioning a future with dean. not the way he does in the later seasons. like does he fantasize about a future with dean? yes. like. he really did watch that motherfucker rake leaves. but it's only fantasy. he expected to never speak to dean again after swan song until dean prayed to him in the third man. he's obsessed with dean, but it's distant. remote.

like, we talk about cas babytrapping dean in the later seasons with jack, and he absolutely does, and he would do it even more if dean got him literally pregnant, but that babytrap is about... how do i put this. it's about winning dean's affection. late seasons cas knows that he's going to die by dean's side. the difference that babytrapping dean makes is that maybe it will get dean to be nice to him in the mean time, instead of discarding him like so much toilet paper.

but season six cas doesn't think of it like that. if he were gonna babytrap dean, it would be in the more traditional sense of forcing dean to stay with him in order to raise their child together. and he would never do that. he wants dean to have a happy future, which in his mind does not include him. like, compare here "he's retired and he's to stay that way" in the man who would be king, where cas assumes that dean is happy without him and expects him to live out his days peacefully without ever seeing him again, to "i'm the one who's going to have to watch you murder the world" in the prisoner, where cas assumes that he will be by dean's side for centuries.

but anyway, the other, much more important problem with season six is that cas has a war to fight. like, in the later seasons, cas really has nothing. even when he's on tenuous good terms with the angels, he doesn't really have a home with them. the winchesters are his family, and he'd give up anything for them. he has nothing in his life. he's at rock bottom, and this becomes truer the further along you go. late seasons cas has nothing he would prioritize over serving the winchesters, and he would be happy dropping anything he was involved in to have and raise dean's baby. parenting would give him a purpose that he no longer has, because everything else has been stripped from him.

but in season six cas has a life outside of them. like yes, he has a war to fight, but he also has a place in heaven, with the other angels. he belongs somewhere, he has solid connections to the outside world. even if he didn't have a war to fight, i don't know how excited he would be to have and raise a baby (even dean's baby) because he simply has other things he could be doing. he's involved in the world beyond the winchesters.

like, the reason cas wants to be a parent is that he is totally alone and totally purposeless. having a child gives him both a reason for being and someone who will always love him and who he can care for. if he doesn't have that hole in his life he might not be so eager to fill it with a baby.

for all these reasons, this plotline really doesn't work in season six, because you simply cannot justify cas not getting an abortion, unless you do something nasty like make angel abortion impossible, which i don't love.

you COULD somehow put the impregnation just at the end of season six, maybe just before the man who would be king, such that cas doesn't realize he's pregnant until he's already godstiel. you guys are unfortunately very aware of how obsessed i am with pregnant godstiel.

actually, @jeanne-de-valois has a concept of like. a single, madness fueled midnight hookup immediately pre-tmwwbk (or maybe even during, but prior to the superman mistake), where cas is simultaneously so stressed from being stretched so thin from the war and the lying and the shady dealings, and so high on being The Big Man In Heaven, that he's bold and out of his mind enough to actually come onto dean, like he just appears one night in dean's bedroom and is like, fuck me, and dean is like 👁👄👁 okay. so they have one single adrenaline and madness fueled hookup, and then everything immediately goes to shit.

and i think that's a great place for cas to get pregnant, and then he doesn't realize until he's become god, or maybe he does and he's just like "i'll deal with it later," either way godstiel is like oh? i carry dean's heir inside me? i will have dean's baby. i will have dean's baby it is my right and also my boon to him and also a symbol of my great and magnanimous love for humanity. and also maybe i will put giant paintings of myself pregnant with his child up in churches. what about that. which would be fun. don't know when he would give birth though. actually it would be insane if he gave birth as emmanuel and was just like. raising dean's nephil when dean found him again. nuts. but it just doesn't really have the same flavor as late seasons mpreg. doesn't compel me nearly as much. like the symbolism of godstiel being pregnant with dean's child is fun and sexy but them actually raising the kid afterwards doesn't compel me nearly as much, so it's better to leave literal mpreg to the later seasons and let godstiel mpreg reside in symbolism and fantasy.

or maybe the fetus gets stolen by the leviathans when cas walks into the lake and dean has to battle his leviathanated nephil daughter as the main villain of s7. like she's dick roman's secret weapon. i think that would be fun, actually. kind of an emma situation but drawn out over the whole season. and he thinks cas is dead for most of it so she's all he's got left of cas and a mess cas left for him to clean up. big sexy.

and as a bonus, i will also tell you the best time, imo, for dean to get pregnant: near the end of season eight. possibly a single, tragic farewell fuck in sacrifice when cas is planning to lock himself away in heaven and they're never gonna see each other again. and this impregnates dean with cas' nephil.

but then cas is human. and he can't do anything about it. like generally if they managed to get dean pregnant somehow, cas would immediately talk him into an abortion (which wouldn't be too hard; dean's natural white midwestern man who doesn't vote aversion to abortion would be at war with the horror of being pregnant, and the horror would win), or might not even inform dean that he's pregnant, and just quietly end the pregnancy without dean's knowledge, because cas would never put dean through that. but if cas is human, he can't do that. and furthermore, that nephil is the last evidence of his angelic nature that persists. it's the last of what he used to be, the last of his grace. and there's something absolutely delectable about that.

then of course dean would have to leave the bunker if he was pregnant with a nephil, because angels would be after him, and he wouldn't want to lead them to gadreel, so i am imagining dean discovering that he's pregnant and then showing up in a panic at the gas n sip like "actually cas i'm also out of the bunker will you go on the run with me?" and then they go on the run and have to live in motels again and cas gets to live with take care of dean who is pregnant with his child which is essentially his dream, and he doesn't have to feel guilty because he's no longer capable of giving dean an abortion so he doesn't feel obligated to get him to have one. ideally cas gets re-angeled just in time to give dean an angelic c-section. or maybe they rely on a normal human c-section in a hospital and cas stays human and they are two humans raising their nephil, which is also fun to me.

#spn #asks #anonymous #mpregpocalypse

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tarithenurse · 4 years

Text

Stolen - 23

Pairing: Loki Laufeyson &/x fem!gifted!reader Content: A roller coaster of emotions and feels. A/N: So my psychiatrist recommended/ordered for me to take 2 weeks of sick leave because I’m a stressed out mess...that’s not going to stop me from writing, of course. Au contraire, without work I’ll have more time for that! Ask or reblog for tag ;)

23. Misery Machine

... Reader ...

What the ever-living FUCK? The bubble of happiness bursts, the pop loud in your mind but blown away by the cold storm raging before you in the shape of a raven-haired god with the colour of blood in his eyes. Memories of faces smiling during the feast come and go in a blur and leave you none the wiser as to what Loki’s problem is.

“Uh...yeah? It was okay,” you try carefully, “think I’m getting closer to Sif and the trio to accept me.”

“You don’t say?” Sarcasm is probably the default state for the god, you decide there and then. “Practically crawling onto their laps.”

Staring dumbfounded at him, each snarled accusation is a whiplash driving you closer to desperation as up and down cease to make any sense. Unsure whether to laugh, cry, or scream back at him, you just stand stock still. Loki, on the other hand, has taken to stalking around the room as he denounces the Asgardian ways – feasts, pretend friendships, nothing goes free – before ultimately turning to you again on an unseen wave of icy coldness radiating from the bluing skin.

“I’m surprised you didn’t have my dear brother rescue you,” he hisses, “or went with Fandral for comfort...he’d be more than willing to oblige.”

“Wait...what?”

Oh yeah, the fallen prince’s eyes are swallowed by red, leaving only a pinprick of black from the pupil. “You heard me.”

Sure did, smurf. “This’s ‘bout them? Are you...? D’you think I’m desperate enough to dick it down with Fandral or have Thor sweep me away like I’m some maiden in distress?”

Now you’re the one getting into his personal space. Though you’re far from as imposing compared to a god with ruby eyes and frosty skin, his raven hair cascading to his shoulders in ways fit for an anime character, you still manage to push him back a few steps before he digs his heels in.

“Tell me honestly, the idea doesn’t tempt you, mortal?”

“Hell yeah, it tempts me! But, y’know what? I can’t! If I go back home to hide and some day Thanos shows up...how’d you think that’d make me feel? Or if you take your dumb-ass on some quest to find the fucker only to get killed? No, that ain’t happening ‘cause I’ma stick through with this. That’s what this mortal’ll do: do things right.”

You can barely see him because tears (which you refuse to let fall) are blurring your vision. By some miracle, you manage to find the door and march down the dim hallway without bashing face first into something but by the time you turn the first corner, your cheeks are wet.

GAAARGH! He’s such an...an...UGH! Haven’t you already proven yourself? Sure, he might just see you as a mortal, as he keeps pointing out, but how many mortals does he know that would’ve been able to handle the mess he’s thrown at you? Admittedly, it might be your self-diagnosed Stockholm Syndrome speaking when you feel you deserve more respect from Loki. Not that he has to “like me” like me...just...

Wiping salt water and probably snot from your face, you look around for somewhere to be alone with your thoughts and spot a double door which could lead to a balcony or terrace only to find it blocked by a blond figure.

“Lady [Y/N]?” You’ve only spoken with Thor once, but no one else has a voice like that, a voice you don’t want to hear right now. “Please, tell me what troubles you.”

Why bother? It’s so easy to follow along as he cups your elbow with one of the huge hands and escorts you onto what does indeed turn out to be a balcony.

Any other person would gasp at the view of the golden-roofed city below, stretching towards the ocean and the infinity of space just beyond. You, a sarcastic thought jeers in your mind, you’re busy sniffling and holding back tears because of some silly spat – and there’s no way you can tell that truth to the man beside you.

“I know...I’m a stranger to you and you have no reason to trust me with your worries,” Thor begins softly, “yet I do feel responsible for your fate. Your chance of happiness. What my brother di-”

“Enough!” The exclamation startles him, blue eyes reconsidering the woman before him. Oops. “I’m...I’m sorry, your highness,” you try to recover while your heart beats in your ears. “Forgive me. You have no obligations on my behalf, your brother’s actions are not yours to atone for.”

The dazzling smile is pretty even if it’s barely hiding a pain beneath. “Kind words, but clearly it torments you.”

“No.” Oh, that’s actually true. “No, what pains me is what I’ve learned since. Thor...you’ve been to Earth. You’ve seen us humans...and you know we’re hopelessly unprepared for what’s to come!”

“Even if Loki would be foolish enough to attack once more, Midgard is not defenceless. You know this.”

The Avengers. Thor had stopped Loki and his Chitauri (as you later found out the aliens were called) invasion. It hadn’t exactly been pretty which is something a lot of politicians are still pointing out – or were before you suddenly found yourself at the mercy of the guy who’d plotted the attack. It feels like years ago.

“Not...” How can I say this right? “Not Loki. Thor, please believe me, he’s not the real problem.”

“Any threat at all...your realm is under my protection.” At least his brows have the decency to furrow, almost hiding the pristine blue.

“He came for the Tesseract...but he already had a Scepter with magical abilities. Where did he get that? Who helped him – or who did he help?”

Obviously, the older brother isn’t as dimwitted as Loki claims because you can see tiny lights go on and off as he connects some of the dots – eyes gazing through your skull and into a different infinity than the one beyond the borders of Asgard and finding the murky areas where there isn’t enough information to illuminate the unknown.

When the crown prince does focus on you, a new worry tightens the muscles of his jaw. “If the Tesseract was all he wanted, why not leave?”

“Who wanted the Tesseract, really? And was that all?”

“Then why the invasion? A smoke screen?”

You shrug (even if it’s hard with Thor’s heavy hands resting on your shoulders) because what else can you do? And silence falls again as each option and its implications are weighed carefully.

“What makes you certain of this?”

Loki might be the God of Lies, Mischief, and whatnot...but looking up into his brother’s face there’s no way he wouldn’t sniff out the smallest inkling of deceit.

“I don’t know anything for sure,” you sigh, “I was...shown some bits and pieces. Been trying to make sense of it.”

“A vision.”

Weeeeell... “If that’s what you’d call it. I’m just scared of what might happen.”

Later, you’d think back of it as a pretty decent hug, but in the moment you are more concerned with continuously breathing as Thor pulls you into a crushing embrace.

“Get some rest, little one,” he smiles tiredly after pulling back, “you have my word I’ll look into this matter.”

... Loki ...

He hears her return to the suite, mainly due to the subdued curses as she struggles to undress. Then the few candles he had left alight are snuffed before [Y/N] settles into bed with a sigh. The single candle in the servant’s tiny room creates sharp borders between shadows and illuminated areas unless Loki exhales particularly hard. I’m not sighing.

Since the woman had stormed out of the quarters, the Jotun has tried to calm himself down and ignore the screaming in his marrow as guilt eats through the bones. Eventually, he succumbed and went to bed only to lie and stare up into the ceiling. A thin blade slips between his fingers in repeated somersaults until he grabs the knife by the handle only to redo the whole thing.

Counting his breaths, he reaches well into the hundreds before daring to step into the suite. The slanted moonbeams illuminate patches on the floor and bed, glistening on the silken covers shaped like a woman. He does his best to ignore it, he really does. Moving silently, Loki picks up the scattered layers of the dress to straighten them out and hang them on the other side of the screen. In the cold light, it is difficult to ascertain the colour of the fabric but he remembers it clearly from when he saw her across the room during the feast where he had been expected to assist – a task perfectly suited to get him closer to the servant and listen to their gossip, of course. He has to shake himself from the tainted memories before continuing the silent duties.

Once, not too long ago, these were details he didn’t bother with. The work of lowly servants, there was no need for a prince to worry about picking up after himself unless he chose to, and while Loki was (and is) meticulous he had certainly never expected to be the one doing this for others. Beneath me! Grumbling within, he still lingers to let the delicate ribbon from [Y/N]’s hair slither between his fingers.

It’s a welcome diversion to imagine how it would be to untie the bow and set her locks free. Or to be the one slipping the straps of the dress off her shoulders and watch it hang on for dear life by her bosom. To gently tug at it, bearing the nipples for me to admire. He can see it in his mind. What Loki doesn’t notice are the eyes watching him.

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howtodrawyourdragon · 5 years

Text

Red Snow: Chapter 2 - A Loss Too Great

Summary: HICCUP WHUMP. HTTYD 2 AU. Stoick doesn't die. Hiccup saw him coming, saw the tragedy that was about to unfold before him and ran away. Toothless would follow. All Hiccup had to do was outlast him. Outlast him and maybe everything would be okay.

Author’s Note: And here it is! Part 2! Please enjoy! Constructive criticism is appreciated.

"HICCUP!" Stoick the Vast had bellowed his son's name many times in his life. Sometimes in anger and other times in joy, but none could measure to the sheer volume he conjured up that day.

He had finally caught up to his runaway offspring, only to bear witness to the final strike that may have taken his life.

Staggering backwards at first as fear wrapped its paralyzing embrace around his beating heart and caused his large body to feel even heavier than ever before, the Chief pushed onwards. He had never run as fast as he had done then to reach Hiccup in time.

Valka followed, but briefly hesitated behind him too. Her eyes wide and her mouth agape in disbelieve at what she had just seen happen right in front of her.

"Hiccup." She spoke. A worry so suffocating she might aswell die on the spot welled up inside, but she continued running. She had to know. She had to be there. Her son needed her and she would no longer stand by idly.

Gobber, meanwhile, had come to a full stop.

It was difficult to keep up with two perfectly able people with a simple wooden peg leg, but he had stubbornly given chase aswell. If just to make sure his apprentice would be okay.

Hiccup had survived much in his life. Even the boy's own birth hadn't gone without complications. He was a fighter when needed and a lucky one at that. The blacksmith never expected this to happen to him and then not get back up.

The young man just lied there in the cold snow, unmoving. Gobber felt every little bit of warmth from within himself be drained. He remained motionless. "Oh no." His voice broke and his devastation painted his face as he shook his head.

It couldn't be true. This couldn't have possibly happened. This had to be a dream, a nightmare. How could the Gods be cruel enough to let this battle take that boy away from them?

Gobber had to tell himself to move. Hiccup, his apprentice, his son, needed him.

"Hiccup!" Stoick was the first to reach the quiet figure lying on the frigid ground. Hiccup hadn't moved the entire time it took his father to reach him and he had crossed quite a distance. He stayed where he lied, limp on his side. The ground below him tainted with the deep red colour of blood.

Stoick let his being fall to his knees. He didn't even notice the pain as all attention was focussed on the one thing that mattered right now. His son, his poor boy.

"Hiccup." It was all he could say, his child's name. Every other word was lost to him. Nothing else would roll of his tongue. It was as if he had forgotten how to properly speak altogether.

He found himself pausing as he stared, his hands hovering over the person in front of him, but not daring to touch. He couldn't find the strength to do this to him in this state. Not with hands so large and rough. He worried he might only make it worse.

Hiccup's eyes were closed, his expression unnervingly peaceful and his skin was a ghostly pale from the blood he had lost. His freckles barely stood out anymore.

The skin that still remained intact, that is.

Once able to push past his distress, as gently as he could, Stoick softly placed his hands on his son and moved him onto his back.

Eyes widened and tears welled up, a sensation he had only made himself familiar with on a few other dire occasions in his life. One of them the supposed death of his wife, the woman sprinting towards them now.

This was different from back when the Red Death had just been defeated. Toothless had kept him mostly safe from the blazing inferno that had once been the mountainous dragon. It was so much easier to lay his hands on him then, when he wasn't so obviously torn and broken. Today, he feared a simple touch would hurt him even more.

As Stoick gazed down on Hiccup, stunned, overwhelmed, his breath momentarily coming to a halt, he noticed a terrible burn damaging part of his face. Raw, wet and blackened. That were his right cheek, his chin, his jaw, his temple, his ear. Some of his wild hair had been singed away and Stoick noticed his neck was burned aswell. All around. His freckles there were gone for good.

The chest piece he wore had been lost with the explosion aswell as the pauldrons on his right side and Stoick wasn't about to go search for their remains. The entire right side of Hiccup's torso had been badly burned aswell as some of his thigh. It was obvious which part of him had ended up takeing the brunt of the plasma blast.

But it couldn't compare to other wounds. It couldn't possibly compare to his arm.

Or lack thereof.

A strangled sob left the mountainous man at the wretched sight. Though not usually one to cry, seeing this broke him.

Once again something had been cruelly taken from his son. When all the boy really wanted was peace, that which he loved to be safe and happy, he had to lose something again. He couldn't bear to see Berk caught in another war. That was the only reason why they were here now. Why Hiccup lied here before him.

Stoick wondered if someone ruthless played with his son as if his life were some kind of game.

And yet...His fault. This was his fault. If he had just reached him in time. If he could have just stopped Hiccup from approaching Drago, stopped him from still wanting to try reasoning with the madman now that they had lost the Bewilderbeast of the Sanctuary... Stoick could only blame himself.

Vikings had lost limbs during the Dragon Scourge. Some had met the horrible fate of burning to death. Others were scarred for life and could no longer even look at the reassuring light of a campfire.

For years Stoick had prevented this fate from befalling his son. Now that the war with the dragons was finally over, that fate had mockingly taken his son anyway.

For a second time.

"Hiccup!" Stoick had continued to stare at Hiccup, at a complete loss on what to do despite years of experience, and barely even registered Valka's arrival as she sank down to the blood soaked snow aswell. Her knees becoming stained.

She, too, hesitated for a moment and felt her every inch tremble at the state her estranged son had ended up in before daring to lay a hand on the young man. She did what Stoick did not have the power or mind to do. She placed her ear on Hiccup's injured chest to listen for a heartbeat.

No matter how small. No matter how fragile. She hoped to hear a single beat.

Valka released a shaky gasp and tears sprung free as she looked up to her husband. Stoick feared the worst.

"He's alive." They were tears of relief.

"Alive?" It was the most softest, smallest voice Valka had ever heard the intimidating Chief of Berk speak in.

"He's alive!" She repeated and a sob broke through. The widest and most saddest smile present on her face. There was still a pulse to be found in their son. Though soft and shallow, he was still breathing.

Which also meant he might wake up to a world of pain soon.

"What're you two doing then?! Bind that arm!" Came Gobber's shaky voice, moving his hand to dry his eyes. Neither man or woman had noticed his presence, but both shot into action the moment he spoke.

They had to come down from the high their son's miraculous survival had given them. He wasn't in the clear yet.

Stoick ripped the green leather straps holding the fur of his armbrace in place and used it as a tourniquet while Valka held the injured limb tenderly in place. Wrapping it as tightly as he could around the remains of that right arm, Stoick managed to stop the bleeding for now. Hopefully on time. They would need to cauterize it soon.

Gobber released a breath and wiped at his face again. He found a nearby chunk of ice to sit his trembling self on.

That last corridor Hiccup had attempted to clear had been blown to smithereens. It was a miracle he was still breathing. It was extraordinairy how there was still so much of the boy left.

All three of them were rattled to their cores and there were tears in their eyes that they could not stop. Relief eased their burdens. They wanted to revel in the knowledge that their Hiccup lived. Anticipation for what's next could wait another second.

But none of their fear, or their relief, could compare to the sheer terror Toothless felt when Drago's Bewilderbeast finally let go of his mind and forced him to come face to face with what he had done.

Toothless had been confused at first, dizzy. It felt like waking up from a really long nightmare.

Simply sitting down and shutting his eyes, he collected himself and let his senses come back to him. As if all of them had been muffled and distorted for some strange reason. He did not even seem to recall that a battle was supposed to be taking place.

Toothless found himself wondering what day it was. Where he was. Where Hiccup might be. Those questions floated around in his mind and he knew no answers.

He didn't feel threatened or like he had just been fighting. Just strangely tired and calm. Like nothing was quite wrong.

Then he blinked and noticed poeple up ahead, people he knew.

Three of them surrounding a fourth one.

That lean figure he could recognize from anywhere. And to see it covered in blood, Toothless' heart stopped as it all came back to him.

Mapping the world with Hiccup, Astrid's arrival, the trappers, Hiccup's mother, Drago Bludvist, the battle, the Good Bewilderbeast's death, ...

Losing himself to Drago's will...

Red.

Vision.

Purple.

Fire.

Pleading.

Hiccup.

Hunting.

Hiccup.

Blood.

Hiccup!

The returning images brought pain to his mind, but Toothless pushed it all away in favour of concentrating on just the one person that mattered to him.

Spurred into action by his concern for his Rider, Toothless came racing as fast as he could. It took him a mere second or two. Pushing past Gobber and being allowed a look by Valka, he now remembered her name being, the always protective and loving dragon could finally assess Hiccup's state.

Everything stopped then. His heart, his breathing, his mind.

Toothless stared at the multitude of severe injuries, the torn and blackened armour, at the absence of most of one right arm, at the eerie peacefulness of his Rider.

Was he... Dead?

He stared, but it didn't quite register. His brain malfunctioned. He didn't seem to understand that this was Hiccup, although the proof was undeniable.

Valka and Gobber watched with pain in their hearts as Toothless flew into a denial and tried to wake his Viking up. Purring, crooning, he pushed his snout against Hiccup's unscathed cheek so he could get Hiccup to open the eyes he loved so much and give him that lopsided smile so typically him.

Who could do this to him? To Hiccup of all people?

Toothless knew the answer, but he didn't want it to be true.

But Denial was not wanted here.

Just short of hitting the dragon on the snout did a heavy war hammer drop between him and Hiccup. Toothless moved his gaze upwards and faced the most hateful glare he had ever witnessed in Stoick the Vast's darkened eyes.

Suddenly five years of peace meant nothing anymore and he felt like a 'devil' all over again.

But this was it.

Hiccup's father would only ever glare this way at people who hurt him.

Alvin, Ryker, Viggo, Krogan, Johan...

And now him.

Denying it was no longer possible. The truth had been made cruelly bare to him.

No one here had hurt Hiccup, except for his most loyal and trusting friend.

"Leave, Devil." Stoick whispered with a fire so toxic and out of control that Toothless shrunk in on himself.

He glanced at Hiccup.

"Leave!" The roar released by the enraged man got him to move. Valka watched him go in sympathy, with a want to comfort both man and dragon. Gobber had his eyes downcast.

Toothless was now alone.

And the full gravity of his actions came crashing down on him.

Stoick's thundering roar is what caught Astrid's attention.

She and the other Dragon Riders had been fighting a losing battle ever since the death of the Bewilderbeast of the Sanctuary.

There were hundreds upon hundreds of men hoping to capture the wild dragons of this Northern nest and for every trap destroyed there were still five more to take their place. For every trapper, there were at least a dozen more. Drago had come with an entire fleet, filled to the brim with loyal pawns, weapons and armoured dragons at his disposal.

But the warriors of Berk were just that. Warriors. No matter how hopeless the fight, they wouldn't back down until their leader told them too and even then it was usually to regroup and think of a better strategy. They were stubborn that way.

Yet at the same time their strength was waning and they had not a clue where Hiccup and Toothless were. Despite that, they had been hoping the former could come up with a last minute plan just in time. Wherever he was and whatever he was doing out there, they knew they could always count on him and his brilliance.

Not one of the nine Riders had any idea he faced Drago Bludvist alone, hoping to still end the war without any more bloodshed now that they had lost the great alpha of this nest. There was very little else they could lose now, so he believed. The risk was worth it.

The Dragon Riders never saw a mind controlled Toothless made to hunt Hiccup down and failed to notice that one last shot that had felled him away from the battlefield. So busy on keeping each other and the dragons safe, the brutal attack on their own lead Rider remained unknown to them all.

Until the moment Stoick the Vast commanded that Toothless leave his son be and Astrid heard him through the rush of the wind and the sounds of war in her ears.

Leaving Eret to work together with Stormfly, she looked over to where her chief's booming voice came from and she saw just a little dot of what she guessed were people. Far, far away.

Confused and bewildered to see those figures there, she already knew something just had to be wrong and she called to the others.

"Guys!" Grabbing their attention as they remained closeby to watch each other's backs, she directed them all over to where their elders were standing. Hotburple, Rumblehorn and Stormcutter not in sight.

There was no Night Fury to be seen either. Anywhere. Though that didn't necessarily mean a bad thing. Hiccup and Toothless could still be fighting. Somewhere.

The Dragon Riders expected something as they veered away from the battlefield to land near the small group of familiars.

A new plan, a turn of events, something, but never this.

A blacksmith struggling to keep himself composed as he sat on a chunk of ice. He had his one hand covered his face, breathing deeply. A recently reunited couple huddled together, kneeling on snow soaked in blood that wasn't theirs. And then their best friend and leader, bloodied and gravely injured, clutched to his father's chest.

"Oh no..." None of the Riders or the Dragons really registered Eret's words of doom while Astrid slid off her Nadder. Numb, her gaze stuck on a much too quiet Hiccup, she came over. The closer she got, the worse it was.

All of her strength left her the second she reached her betrothed and fell down next to him. The freezing chill of the arctic could never compare to the cold within. Her hands moved, ghosting over his cheeks as she wanted to cup them and feel his warmth, but she didn't dare.

What happened to him? There were so many burns. Way too many. Blood covered him, soaked Stoick's tunic and the ground below them. Chunks of Hiccup's armour and flightsuit were missing. There were messy cuts all over his body and she couldn't imagine the hidden bruises. His skin was simply too pale.

"Hiccup?" Her voice was soft, high, a mere whisper as she looked up to her Chief and his lost wife.

She realized they were sorrowful, but not mourning.

"He's alive. Just barely, but holding on." The woman who Hiccup had earlier introduced as his mother spoke up, spend tears drying on her cheeks. Momentarily a hand of hers hovered over Astrid's shoulder, but she withdrew it.

"Alive? Are you sure?" Fishlegs' voice was a whimper, his person a quaking mess. Of all the Riders who had approached, he was the farthest away. Afraid of the possible truth.

The woman nodded with but the smallest hint of a forced smile and Gobber looked over, but there was still no response from Stoick, who held his son to his chest as if letting go would cause him to turn to dust before their very eyes.

Ruffnut and Tuffnut had a hold of each other, a show of comfort reserved only for moments as severe as these. Snotlout's eyes were wide in disbelieve, Astrid could see him trying to understand what he saw and failing at doing so. They were wet too, though he didn't seem to notice. All of them shaken, they had a hard time figuring out why or even how this happened.

Hiccup 'impervious to any and all injuries except for the loss of one leg' Haddock. How could he be the one cradled in his father's arms, just an inch away from death? This couldn't be real.

Eret dismounting Stormfly is what drew Astrid's attention to the Dragons and she noticed that they, too, stood there as if petrified.

Hiccup was their original trainer, the first Viking to use affectionate scratches and harmless dragon nip to incapacitate them as opposed to brutal violence. If not for the kindness they loved receiving from him, the years spend by his and Toothless' sides had helped them love him as much as he did them.

None was brave enough to move closer. It almost seemed like they would rather shy away from the sight. All except Hookfang, who nudged Snotlout, but got no response.

However, Stormfly was missing.

Fingers entangled within Hiccup's matted hair, Astrid turned away further to scan the beach for her Nadder, only to find both her and the Night Fury.

Stormfly circled Toothless worriedly, chirping around the black figure who had hid himself away, his back facing them.

Why was he there instead of here with Hiccup? Other times he was hurt, the dragon barely even let him go to the bathroom on his own.

"Toothless-"

"Don't."

The young woman wanted to jump up and run over, see if Toothless was okay, but her Chief stopped her.

Finally looking up, there was a look of pure rage in his eyes that he didn't care to cover up.

"He's the reason my son is like this." The way he spoke, so cold and vengeful, send shivers down their spines.

The Riders all looked to each other and the Dragons grew restless. They weren't sure what to think. Toothless would be the last person to ever harm the Viking he adored, much like said Viking would never harm him.

This was it. Astrid wanted some clear answers.

"What do you mean? How could Toothless ever hurt-"

But her questions would have to wait as Stoick lowered his son from the protective confines of his embrace, but didn't let go. His action didn't only reveal the true extent of Hiccup's injuries, but also the horrific state of his arm.

They all gasped. Eret muttered something under his breath, the woman looked away as did Gobber and Astrid drew back.

His arm. Where was Hiccup's right arm?!

It looked like it was blown right off.

But how could Toothless possibly have done this? Was it an accident?

"But how... How- how could... Toothless." Astrid was torn between staring at the torn stump and looking away. She could hardly finish her question.

"Because that Night Fury couldn't fight off Drago's control. Because he hunted down his Rider relentlessly and-"

"Stoick, please." The fair woman tried to intervene in the Chief's accusations, but it was fruitless.

"You've seen it too, Valka, you were there! Six times that devil-"

"It's not Toothless' fault! You know that!" Her eyes were brimming with fresh tears. The state her son was in broke her heart, but so did her broken husband's words.

"Val!"

"A good dragon under the control of bad people will do bad things! It's not his fault!" Valka defended Toothless and she would do so until the very end. She did it with every little remaining energy in her being.

The Night Fury was a victim here too. His mind violated, his body taken, used as a means to kill his soulmate... They could not place the blame on him.

Astrid realized then she was crying aswell.

She looked behind her again, past the Riders who had gravitated closer to each other as they attempted to process the fact that their friend had lost another limb, past the Dragons who dealt with this in their own way, and saw Toothless and Stormfly. But unlike her future father-in-law, couldn't bring herself to hate him like he did.

There was only one monster deserving of her hate here.

And he was crying out his battlecry and swinging his hook.

The defeated warriors watched as the enemy Bewilderbeast let out a mighty roar and suddenly their dragons left them.

"Hookfang!"

"Meatlug, wait, where are you going?!"

"Barf-"

"Belch?! What're you guys doing?!"

"Stormfly!"

Their pupils mindless narrowed slits now, they were no longer in control of themselves as they took off and joined Drago's growing army of living machines of war.

They were helpless. All of them.

"Gather the dragons, gather the men. Our next target is Berk." Bludvist's cruel voice rang loud and clear across the entire frozen beach as he commanded the Trappers to retreat with their spoils.

There was amusement in his tone, glee, and he gazed down upon them from the back of a Stormcutter.

"Cloudjumper." Valka whispered in devastation.

"Leave the Night Fury here. A creature as weak and pathetic as that has no place in my army. Let it die at the hands of Stoick the Vast." It was mocking, but it explained why all the dragons except for Toothless left. After taking a total of six shots before 'killing' Berk's heir, Drago had no use for him.

The Riders, the former Trapper, the Chief, the Dragon Thief and the blacksmith all watched the army of terror leave with their fleet and their dragons. The Bewilderbeast sinking into the ocean once more. They were headed towards Berk, towards their home, and they were powerless to stop it.

Deafening silence settled upon the Sanctuary afterwards. The kind King of Dragons was dead and Hiccup might follow soon. The inhabitents of the island they had all sought to protect were gone. Their home was to be the next target.

The Dragon Riders had been defeated.

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snickerl · 7 years

Text

Mom’s The Best

A collection of XF ficlets

I started this collection of stand-alone ficlets about Margaret Scully because she’s always been one of my favorite characters and a season 11 without her seems too much to take.

With the first installment, I asked for story prompts and have received one so far. I’m already working on it. Feel free to feed my creative brain with story ideas - fluffy or angsty, canon or AU, set in seasons 1-9 or 10 and beyond.

So far, the collection contains the following ficlet:

PEPPERMINT TEA

APPLE PIE

Thanksgiving was Margaret Scully's favorite holiday.

She had spent days preparing food and her famous apple pie would be the crowning finish of a delicious meal. Her whole family had gathered at her house. Bill and Tara had come with the kids from whatever Navy base the were stationed at and even Charlie had brought his wife Sandra and their three children this year. Dana was there, which filled Maggie with joy and gratitude every year after she'd been painfully missed during the years she couldn't attend the family gatherings.

Of course, there were some people dear to Maggie who weren`t with them tonight. Ahab, her beloved husband of almost four decades who'd passed away too early. Melissa, her older daughter who'd been taken away from her in cold blood. William, her miracle grandson who sat at another family's dinner table. And last but not least, Fox, her surrogate son and somewhat son-in-law. ‘Somewhat’ as they had never made their relationship official, had never signed a wedding certificate or spoken the vows in front of a priest. Or would ex-son-in-law be the more appropriate term? Maggie didn't know, and she assumed Dana didn't know either. They had separated, had called it a temporary breakup, but that had been more than two years ago.

Maggie witnessed first-hand how much Dana suffered from the situation. She saw her bury herself in her work, volunteering to take double shifts and on-call services until she broke down in the hospital from sheer exhaustion. She saw the dark circles under her eyes from insomnia and her drop weight from having lost her appetite. Only recently had she gotten better, since they had started working together again. As much as Maggie had cursed the FBI in Dana's and Fox's first turn as Special Agents, she silently thanked Skinner, their former and current boss, for bringing them together again.

It was doing them both good. Mulder, who had been fighting a depression after having lost all purpose of his life, was thriving again. The feeling of being needed, of being of service, of having a reason to get up in the morning filled him with the energy and power everybody thought he had lost for good. And Dana? Dana also thrived sharing parts of her life with her former partner once again. Even if they weren't back together, simply conversing with him over a case, working hand in hand with him, seeing him almost on a daily basis, steadied her. The color had returned to her cheeks, she actually smiled again and looked content in a way she hadn't in a long, long time.

But Maggie wanted more for them. Although Dana didn't get tired assuring her that neither of them thought of resuming their physical relationship, that their desperate love for each other had been all-consuming and had nothing left for them to give to the other, Maggie knew better. That was why she had invited Fox to her traditional Thanksgiving dinner this year. She had asked Dana if it was okay for her, hadn't wanted to catch her out playing Cupid, but she hadn't told Bill Jr., who had never been a fan of Mulder's. He would simply have to deal with the situation. So she as she was residing at the head of the table, watching everybody chatter happily, nervousness crept up her spine for the chime of the door bell she expected any minute. Matthew, her oldest grandson, had just whined about when dinner would be finally served when it happened. Bill threw his mother a surprising look and Dana couldn't hide a slight smile.

"I get it," Maggie explained and shoved her chair back to get up.

She opened the front door to a groomed, shaven, properly dressed and smiling Mulder with flowers in his hands. What a difference compared to the man he'd been a few months prior, before he'd started working with Dana again.

"Hello Fox, I'm so happy to see you. Come in," Maggie welcomed him.

"Thanks for the invitation, Maggie" he answered, stepping into the hallway. He placed a gentle kiss on the older woman's cheek and handed her all the flowers but one, a single yellow rose. He slipped out of his jacket and hung it on the rack by the door. There had been a time this house was like a second home to him. "Am I late?" he asked nodding to the living room where a loud chattering was coming from.

"Oh no, you're perfectly on time. Matthew just asked when dinner would be served. Teenagers," she sighed, "always hungry."

Mulder followed Maggie somewhat tentatively through the hallway, clutching the rose with both hands. "Uhm, Maggie...does Dana-" he started but was cut off by a gentle "Hi Mulder" of the woman he had just mentioned. She stood at the end of the hallway, showing him one of her small, toothless smiles. Maggie was pleased to notice her daughter's delight upon seeing him although she tried to hide it, as well as the way Fox beamed at her. Maggie closely observed their interaction for more hints that her plan might work out after all.

Fox took the remaining few steps until he reached the spot where Dana had positioned herself. He placed a cautious kiss on her cheek as well and gave her the rose. She smelled at it, then smiled. "Thank you."

"I hope you're okay with my showing up here. Your mother wouldn't take no for an answer," Fox mumbled.

"It's fine. I'm glad you're here," Dana answered.

"Your brother won't share your enthusiasm, I'm afraid."

"Don't mind Bill. Charlie’s here, too, and he's always liked you. Plus, mom placed me between Bill and you, so consider me your protective shield."

"You're tiny, Scully, and your brother has long arms and huge hands. Are you sure you're able to protect me from a hostile Navy captain?"

"I protected you from hostile monsters and psychopaths, I'm fully capable of protecting you from my brother. Who I managed to rein in when we were kids, I might add. By the way, since I’ve had my self-defense training at the Academy and am allowed to carry a gun, he's tame as a kitten," she added with a tight-lipped grin. She grabbed his arm and tugged him along. "Come on, Mulder, time for you look the patriarch of the Scully-family in the face."

Maggie couldn't help but smile at their little banter. The mood between them hadn't been that light and playful for a long time. It even reminded her a little of the time when their relationship hadn't yet been tainted by a lonely pregnancy, a resurrection-from-the-dead experience, the loss of a son, a life underground, and an endogenous depression. What a great idea to invite him over, Maggie thought and mentally patted herself on the shoulder. She went into the kitchen to get a vase for the bouquet Mulder had brought her. When she returned to the dining room the first thing she noticed was the yellow rose on the table in front Dana's plate. Next, Bill's sour face and that Mulder was seated next to Scully and sort-of trying to hide behind her. A hopeless endeavor from the start, of course, as her daughter was almost half his size.

Maggie shouted out orders to everyone so that the food would be put on the table quickly. Her family cooperated well, Mulder too, who made sure the wine for the adults as well as the soda for the children made it safely to the table. When all of them had taken their seats, Maggie shushed her guests and was the first to fold her hands, tilt her head and close her eyes. The table fell silent and everybody, even the kids, listened carefully when she began to pray.

"Thank You, Heavenly Father, for this food we are about to eat. Thank You for Your amazing power and work in our lives, for Your goodness and for Your blessings over us, the ones we've seen, as well as the ones we haven't. Thank You for looking out for those who cannot be with us today. Ahab, Melissa, Emily, and William. We miss them, but their absence reminds us to keep our eyes fixed on heaven where we will all meet again some day. We give You praise and thanks, for You alone are worthy! In Jesus' Name, Amen."

Everyone mumbled 'Amen' and the adults crossed themselves; all but Mulder, who'd never been a religious person. But he was familiar with the tradition at a Scully Thanksgiving, for he had been a guest to a few of them; or so he thought. What he didn't know was that they had a new ritual established in the years of his absence during the worst phase of his depression and the following separation from Scully. Maggie started it by grabbing Bill's hand who was sitting to her right and Sandra's on her left. The others followed, taking each others' hands as well. Scully took Mulder's left hand, Louise, one of Charlie's daughters, held his right.

When the circle was closed, Maggie explained, "Fox, this is something we’ve been doing for a couple of years. We take each others' hands and think of what good has happened in the past year. It can be something small or something big, something personal or not, it doesn’t matter. Just something we're grateful for. I, for example, am grateful, that in the past year all of my grandchildren found the time to pay me a visit. One stayed for a few days and helped me when I had the flu," she threw a warm smile at Louise, "one dropped by for half hour on my birthday." The exact same warm smile was thrown at Matthew who pursed his lips. "It didn't matter how long you stayed, the fact that you didn’t forget your old grandmother filled me with joy. I thank the Lord for the wonderful grandchildren he’s given me. The ones who are here tonight, as well as the ones who can't."

Maggie knew she made two people's heart ache particularly with this, but it was important to her to let Dana and Fox know that she considered William and Emily to be her grandchildren just like the others, that they belonged to their family and had a firm place in her heart like the ones sitting at her dining table right now. She noticed how Mulder's hand squeezed Scully's a little tighter and how both of them fought with their emotions.

"Your turn, Sandra," Maggie said, passing the torch to her daughter-in-law.

One after the other voiced their gratitude, and just as Maggie had explained, a smorgasbord of events and things was coming up. Neil, Charlie's youngest son was grateful for his new bike, Tara for the fact that Bill had returned safely from an overseas deployment. Charlie was grateful that he'd been offered a new job, and Louise for the experiences she made working part-time at a retirement home.

And then it was Mulder's turn. Maggie looked at him as he cleared his throat and squeezed Scully's hand again before he started to speak. "I am grateful, endlessly grateful, that in the past year a person has been led back into my life I'd already deemed lost forever."

Bill moaned silently and was kicked in the shin under the table by his mother. Dana stared at the rose in front of her working hard to keep her composure. Maggie could tell by the way her daughter chewed the inside of her cheek. Everyone else at the table had fallen silent, for they all knew about the sad and complicated history of their relationship.

Mulder continued. "This person, who'd been the light of my existence, my savior both literally as in the figurative sense, is the reason I'm still here on this planet, and I'm grateful for every minute I was allowed to spend with her." He cleared his throat again from a lump and coughed nervously.

'Jesus, Mulder,' Maggie heard her daughter whisper and him replying equally subdued, 'Sorry, Scully, but it's true.' "Thank you, Fox," she then said loud to break the awkward silence scattering the room, "for sharing with us such an intimate issue. Dana, you're next."

"I...uh," Scully blinked a tear away and licked her lips, clearly taken off-guard by Mulder's open words, "I am grateful for another year in remission. I know I'm saying this every year but every year that's been given to me since that nasty cancer is a gift. Not all of them were happy years, but I don't want to miss a single one because they have brought me to where I am at this very moment. And I'm grateful for being here today."

Now it was Mulder who blinked away a tear. Maggie was moved by what she heard from Dana and Fox. It was proof of how scarred the souls of those two were, but also how only they had the power to heal each other. She had been so right to play Cupid. They belonged together, in one way or another.

Bill finished the round by thanking the Lord for holding his protective hand over the men of his Navy unit, and soon, the somewhat heavy mood was dispersed by the passing around of bowls and platters, the clinking of glasses, a cheerful chatter and laughter. Maggie's heart leapt at the view of three generations of Scullys - and she had always added Mulder in - sitting at her table enjoying each others' presence. In a few years, a fourth generation might join them. She hoped to live long enough to see that happen. She sent a silent prayer to her late husband, phrasing in her head, 'Look, Ahab, how wonderful our children and their children are. I wished you were here but I know you're looking at us from above. I love you.'

When all stomachs were filled, the entire party worked together to clear the table quickly, moving back and forth between the dining room and the kitchen. Eventually, Maggie shooed them all out of her realm, all but one.

"Fox, would you give me a hand with making coffee and cutting the apple pie?"

"Sure," Mulder said.

"You still know how to operate the coffee maker, don't you?"

"Of course, Maggie, it's not exactly rocket science," he replied and flicked the power switch, bringing the machine to life. He opened an overhead cabinet and took out some coffee cups and saucers. He still knew himself around Margaret Scully's kitchen. He'd helped her often in the past. Actually, they'd had some of their best conversations while she was cleaning the dishes in the sink he then dried and put away.

"That was very sweet what you said earlier, during the gratitude round," Maggie said, handing him the bag with the coffee beans.

"Hmm," was all he replied.

"Dana liked it too."

"I'm not so sure about that. She hates her emotions being dragged into the public."

"We're not the public, Fox, we're her family," Maggie insisted.

"Yeah, but still."

He sighed noisily. Maggie sensed his doubtful state of mind, although he had his back turned to her so she couldn't read his face. She walked over to where he had busied himself with fumbling at the coffee machine which was actually working perfectly well on its own.

She put her hand on his shoulder. "What's the matter, Fox? You seem a bit at odds with yourself."

He turned around and looked at her.

"I meant every word I said, Maggie. I'm so glad to have her back in my life. Work is great and we function together as if we'd never quit, but..." he trailed off, stifling another sigh.

"But?"

"I want to have her back completely, all of her. I can't imagine myself with anyone but her."

Maggie knew that the same applied to Dana. For all the time they'd been separated, she'd never been out on a date, and Maggie was sure several men had been interested. Once she had even witnessed how Dana rebuffed a fellow doctor quite frankly, telling him she was 'not available'. But she also knew that after all Dana and Fox had been through, wiping the slate clean wasn't that easy.

Dana had told her how much she enjoyed working on the X-Files again. On the one hand, the cases challenged her scientist's intellect in a way not even the most complicated surgery could, but on the other hand, and maybe more important one, she had missed Fox just as much as Fox had missed her. They had never fallen out of love with each other, despite the severe problems they had faced in their relationship. Maggie knew her daughter and she assumed that is was mainly fear that held Dana back. She kept Fox at arm's length for fear of hurting again, of not being able to make it last.

"I thought of asking her to move back in. She lives in that tiny apartment which costs a fortune when at the same time there's plenty of room at our house. She'd have an office of her own and a bedroom. We could be...roommates."

Maggie pursed her lips, tilted her head and arched an eyebrow. "Roommates? Is that what you want her to be? Your roommate?"

"Of course not! I want her-" Mulder swallowed the rest of the sentence when Scully appeared in the doorframe to the kitchen. "Do you need any help in here?" she asked.

"No thanks, honey, we're almost done," Maggie said. "Why don't you two go outside for a moment? It's nice and the neighbor's boy, Tyler, did a wonderful job painting the garden shed. Maybe you'd like to have a look at it? I'm fine getting the pie ready myself."

With this, Maggie nudged them out of the kitchen. She was on a mission and just hoped that outside, being on their own with no curious family members within earshot, they might find a way to talk about what they had both said at the table earlier. She had a perfect view of the garden shed from her kitchen window. Giving them some undisturbed privacy didn't necessarily mean she had to rein in her own curiosity.

So Maggie watched through the window above the sink how they stepped outside in their jackets, Fox placing his hand at the small of Dana's back. They were walking side by side the few yards over to the shed, came to a halt and turned to each other, not deigning to look at the kid's painting job for even a second. Not that Maggie had really expected them to. The coffee machine was announcing the end of its task with an ongoing beep but Maggie didn't notice. She was too distracted by what was happening outside. They spoke to each other and Dana cupped Fox's cheek. This was going in the right direction, Maggie thought, absent-mindedly operating the milk frother for several minutes now.

"Mom?"

Bill Jr. had startled his mother.

"The coffee machine is beeping," he said, switching it off. He threw her a bewildered look. "What are you looking at?" He joined her at the sink and looked outside. When he saw Mulder and his sister deep in a conversation, he groaned. "What the-" slipped out of his mouth, and he just managed to keep that last word inside.

Maggie set the milk frother aside. She took the apple pie out of the pantry and handed him a knife. "Make yourself useful, Bill, and cut the pie."

Bill took the knife from her but ignored the pie. "What is she doing? She's not falling for his syrupy vows from earlier, is she?"

"Bill," Maggie tried to appease.

"No, seriously, mom, why is she even listening to him?"

Mother and son were both standing shoulder to shoulder now, staring outside. Maggie's heart jumped in anticipation, whereas Bill felt bile rising up his throat. Eventually, they observed how Mulder leaned in and placed a shy kiss on Scully's lips.

"Nooooo," Bill groaned, "Dana, please! How is he able to bewitch her again and again, mom? I don't get it!"

"She loves him, Bill, what's there not to understand? Your sister has been in love with this man for many, many years."

"But she left him! Why did she leave him if he's such a great guy?"

"You're a married man yourself, you know the ups and downs of a relationship. Dana and Fox had to fight demons, none of us would've been able to deal with."

While Maggie and Bill were discussing the relationship of the two people they were watching, said two people moved closer to one another. Maggie's heart beat a little faster when she saw how Dana let Fox pull her toward him, how he cupped her face with both hands, and how their lips met. They shared a tender kiss which soon turned into a quite passionate one, that much was obvious from their observation post. Fox's hand went into Dana's hair, Dana's arms around Fox's waist.

"I can't believe this pitiful loser is sweet-talking her into following him again," Bill huffed, sliding the knife crudely through the apple pie.

"William Scully Jr., watch your mouth! I know you're only worried about your sister, but she's no stupid little girl who can be manipulated with a few charming words. And Fox is a decent and very kind man who'd give his life for Dana. Accept the fact that those two belong together and learn to live with him being your sister's choice. Now you cut that pie into fair slices, I take care of the dishes." With this, she left him alone in the kitchen.

When her husband had still been alive, the patriarch of the family, Margaret had rather been the sort of housewife and mother who dealt with the unwanted behavior of her children in a gracious and tender manner, leaving it mainly to her husband to tell them off or punish them. When they'd been grounded by their father, she'd bring them milk and cookies and pardon them ahead of time if she thought the punishment was too severe. But since Ahab was not around anymore, she had to take over his role, and just because her children were adults didn't mean they didn't need some serious motherly talking once in a while.

The moment Maggie entered the hallway with a tray full of the dishes and silverware she was about to put on the dining table, the front door opened and Mulder and Scully stepped inside. Maggie almost dropped the tray when she noticed that they were holding hands. Dana's cheeks glowed, Fox's eyes sparkled and Maggie's heart threatened to burst.

"Oh hi, mom," Scully said, letting go of Mulder's hand as if it was a hot potato.

'Cute,' Maggie thought, 'like when I caught her holding hands with her first beau. What was his name again? Brandon? Yes, Brandon McCoy, her classmate in school.'

"Mulder and I...uhm, we...well, uh..." she started clumsily. Fox was standing behind her, smiling like a Cheshire cat and obviously touching her at places which made her squirm. Maggie wasn't stupid.

"It's okay, honey. We saw you."

"We?" Scully shrieked.

"Bill and I. Through the kitchen window."

"Bill? Bill saw us kiss?" There was a slight hysteric ring to Scully’s voice now.

"He'll get over it. I'm not so sure about the apple pie, though. He might have slaughtered it by now."

"Bill is holding a knife in his hands? I better go and hide. I'm sorry, Maggie, I didn't mean to ruin your Thanksgiving dinner," Mulder interjected and Maggie cringed because of how truly contrite he sounded.

"Don't be ridiculous, Fox! You haven't ruined anything but made an old woman very happy. Just don't screw this up again, you two. Do you hear me?"

"Yes, Ma'am," Mulder replied, placing his hands on Scully's shoulders and a quick peck on her cheek from where he was still standing behind her, evoking a joyful smile and a girlish giggle from her that made Maggie warm all over.

"Put your coats back on the rack and join us in the dining room in a few. I'm going to fill the other's in, although I'm quite sure they will be able to read it in your faces. The women, at least," Maggie said with a grin, then turned on her heel and headed toward the dining room. Just when she'd walked around the corner at the end of the hallway and was out of sight, she heard Bill step out of the kitchen. She held her breath. The last thing they needed was a fight between two men in their belief they had to protect Dana. She stayed put, pricking up her ears to be ready to separate the gamecocks if necessary.

"Dana. Mulder," she heard Bill huff.

"Bill-," Fox started but was cut off instantly by Dana. "Mulder, go inside! This is something between my brother and myself."

"But Scully..."

"Go!" Dana insisted and shoved him forward, Maggie figured by the sounds coming from the hallway. 'Good girl,' she whispered. When he had caught up to her, she just handed him the tray and motioned for him to move further to the dining room. She didn’t want him to overhear what she was going to eavesdrop on.

"How could you, Dana? What kind of a toxic relationship is this?" Bill's voice came from the hallway. Maggie's stomach churned. Hadn't he understood a word she'd said to him?

"He's a good man, Bill, despite what you're thinking of him."

"You suffered. You were hurt. You were mistreated. Jesus, Dana, this man has brought more pain into your life than one person should be dealing with in their life."

"You're saying this as if he did it on purpose. He suffered, was hurt and mistreated just like me. That's what's been melding us together, don't you see? For goodness sake, we have a child together we had to give up, Bill! Imagine I told you to let go of Tara just because I thought she wasn't good enough for you."

"It wouldn't be the same."

"Why not?"

"Because you don't know Tara like I do."

Maggie covered her mouth to stifle a chuckle. She knew Bill had just maneuvered himself into a corner now.

"But you know Mulder better than I do? Nobody...no-body knows Mulder better than I do. I know him better than he knows himself. We're the only ones who fully understand the other's issues, who have the ability to heal each other. If you like to call it toxic, then go ahead. I know you're only trying to protect me, Bill, and I appreciate your concern, but you've got to leave the choice of whom I'm sharing my life with to myself."

'That's my girl.' In her mind, Maggie applauded her. She didn't hear Bill reply anything, she assumed because he simply didn't know what to say. Dana had made her point, and she'd made it convincingly. Maybe, hopefully, he had understood by now.

"I just want my little sister to be happy."

"I am, Bill. As much as I can ever be."

"If you say so."

"I do. There's really no need for you to worry about me. I'm a big girl."

"Alright. Okay. Fine. I'll do my best to keep my mouth shut from now on. But as soon as he mistreats you in any way, I'll be back."

"He won't, Bill. He won't."

Maggie could hear the smile in Dana's voice. A load had been taken off her mind and she leaned her head against the wall in relief. She peeked around the corner into the hallway and what she saw made her eyes watery. Dana had put her head on her brother's broad chest and Bill had folded his arms around his sister's shoulders. This day not only seemed to be a new beginning for Dana and Fox but also for Dana and Bill.

"Mmmm," Dana hummed, "that's nice Bill. I could use a brotherly hug like this once in a while."

"Whenever. But for now, we should go back inside and make sure we get some of mom's apple pie. As far as I know, your Mulder has a sweet tooth, and Matthew never seems to be done eating these days. And if I don't get a slice of that pie, I'll get grumpy, that's for sure. I've been looking forward to it for days."

"You’re making a point here, Bill. Let's go."

Maggie heard Dana’s chuckle approaching and sneaked into the guest bathroom in a hurry because she didn't want them to find out she had eavesdropped on their conversation. She closed the door behind herself and sat down on the closed toilet lid, breathing in and out a few times. What a perfect Thanksgiving this was. She had a lot to be grateful for. All that mattered to her at this stage of her life was her family, and it filled her with joy that at this moment in time. Every member of the Scully family was healthy, loved and well-cared for. There was only one person she couldn't be sure about, William. He was the only blind spot on the otherwise colorful family tree, an issue that kept Maggie awake night.

She got up and clicked her tongue when she looked at her reflection in the mirror. "Margaret, your mission as head of this family isn't completed yet," she told herself, "there's one more thing you have to do. Bring that last lost sheep back to the herd." She rubbed her cheeks and smiled at herself. When she opened the door, she was fiercely determined to have one more member of the Scully clan sitting at her Thanksgiving table next year.

She couldn’t wait to make a plan.

#xf fanfiction #Margaret Scully #MSR #Bill Scully #send me prompts

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