#she may be infertile but what's that matter when she helped raise a village (and it's children). she has a legacy.

[direwombat]

high and very much in an "emo about my oc" mood ;w;

#i just. love syb. so much. #i put her through so much i just want to give her a hug #babygirl i promise you there is a peaceful end #happy even...you know...comparatively... #yes she loses everything and the suffering isn't worth it #but she finds purpose as a protector (always a soldier) and she and jacob find each other post bunkers #after so much time spent destroying things. she helps build something. #she may be infertile but what's that matter when she helped raise a village (and it's children). she has a legacy. #one devoid of her father and his influence #and that's really what makes her free #sorry for the tag essay oops #oc: deputy sybille la roux

[shreddedparchment]

Pseudo Princess Epilogue

08/21/2020

Pairing: King!Steve x Reader          Word Count: 6,172

Warnings: fluff, talks of sterilization/infertility

A/N: I did promise a surprise. There were some interactions that I wanted to touch on that I couldn’t fit into the last chapter and this just felt right to write. I hope y’all enjoy. If you happen to reblog, thanks so much for helping me spread my work! xoxo

“What have you decided?” You wonder, adjusting Joseph in your arms as they begin to tire.

“We’re going to adopt.” Nat’s smile is genuine and yet, you find there’s a sadness in her eyes that breaks your heart.

She looks at Joseph and stares at him for a moment before reaching across the small space between your chairs to caress his little cheek.

“May I be honest with you?” You hesitate but know that you need to say this in order for that sadness to leave her eyes.

Of course, her sadness is her own and you might only help relieve it. You cannot chase it away for good.

“Of course.” She takes her hand back to place over yours.

“I am so glad that you have decided not to see the witch.” You sigh. “After having lost all of you for over a year, the thought of losing more time knowing that I would have had it…”

“I know.” Nat interrupts softly, tearing her eyes down to her hand in yours. “James is the same. He told me to choose what would make me happy and for a moment I considered very much going to see her, but the forced look of detachment on James’s face was heartbreaking. I don’t want him to feel as if his opinion does not matter to me.

“If we cannot both be of one mind in this choice then it is a choice that I cannot make. We were both decided on adoption before I remembered the witch’s offer so, adoption is the only choice my heart can bear to make.” Nat’s feelings are genuine, and you can see the decision has lifted weight from her shoulders.

“You have known that you could not have children for years. Is this really what you wanted. Having them naturally?” You probe, already knowing her answer. “You know that Bucky does not and has not cared if you could give him natural born children.”

“Why do you know me so well?” She huffs a small laugh. “I wanted to give him the life he deserved.”

“The life he deserves is the one he chooses, love. And he chooses to be with you, just as you are. For him you are not lacking in anything.” You point out, remembering the look of utter worship he gives her every time they’re together.

“I know.” Nat nods, smiling wide albeit a little resigned. “I don’t think I’ve ever truly accepted that and that’s why I became so fixated on giving him a child born of us both.”

You scoot closer to the edge of your seat, adjusting the sleeping Joseph in your arms. Now that you’re closer, you can wrap one arm around her back a little, bringing your face down and closer to her own.

“We all love you, Nat. Just as you are. Any child you raise would be lucky to have you as a mother. I know I’ve said it before, but I cannot impress upon you the sincerity of what I say. Trust me. You are perfect to us. If not the world, then to Bucky and myself. And isn’t that enough?”

Her eyes begin to water, and you have the sudden urge to hug her. Before you can, the door to your sitting room opens. Quickly you wipe away the two tears that roll onto Nat’s cheeks as Peter freezes, his eyes wide with surprise. He’s still got his arms extended, feet still in mid-step.

“Oh,” He gasps. “I’m…I didn’t know you were in here your Majesty. I’m so sorry.”

“Peter!” You exclaim, happy to see him.

His face changes, a wide smile replacing the look of shock on his face.

“Hi.” He replies simply, moving towards you as you rise to your feet and with Joseph carefully balanced in your arms, you wrap Peter up in the other.

“It’s so good to see you. When Steve told me you’d left for Father’s castle I was saddened to be denied our reunion.” You chuckle, trying to keep Joseph as still as possible despite knowing that he will not wake even should you need to grab a sword and fight some random attacker.

“I’m sorry, I had to deliver Steve’s invitations for the feast he has planned for when the estate is completed. Only a few weeks now.” Peter says proudly as you pull back to get a look at his face. He seems to be getting taller still. Just over a year and you’re shocked by his growth.

He’s much bigger in muscle mass too.

“Invitations, sure.” Natasha teases, fixing him with a knowing look.

Peter seems to deflate by her implications which raises many questions in your own head.

To allay your confusion, he leads you back to your seat and helps you to sit.

“Morgana and I have actually parted ways.” He says simply, his voice serious but not melancholy.

“Oh.” Nat exclaims, exchanging with you a quick look of concern. “I hope that it was nothing that cannot be mended?”

Peter takes a step back and reaches up to scratch at the back of his neck.

“She is much happier with our engagement at an end. If I am honest, we have been growing apart the last several months. She has been busy undertaking King Stark’s training and I have been busy in the villages with minor disturbances from remnants of Hydra and their various factions.

“Our friendship is just as strong as it ever was, but I don’t believe romance will be a part of our future.” Peter sighs upset despite his words of assurance.

“Last I remember your romance was only just blooming.” You lament, hating to have lost out on the beauty of their love growing.

Now it’s gone?

“Yes.” Peter smiles. “I had high hopes for us but I’m certain this is the right choice for us both.”

“Is this a choice you both made?” Natasha wonders, worried for the young guard.

“We spoke about it at length and we’re sure that it’s for the best.” Peter nods. “Do not worry. We are both perfectly fine.”

Containing your frown is out of the question but he does look as if their choice is one of certainty and you can’t exactly contradict them if they have found what is right for both of them. Even if it’s a shame that you won’t have Peter as a brother-in-law.

With no choice but to move on, you let Natasha take Joseph from your arms as she moves him into the crib nearby.

You have one in here and one in your bedroom.

“So?” You begin, sitting back with a small grimace at the pain in your back. “What brings you to my sitting room? I know you did not come to see me since you didn’t know I was in here.”

As Natasha tucks Joseph in, she waits with observant eyes as if she’s still trying to decide if Peter has told you both the truth about him and Morgana.

“I was sent in to fetch your sewing basket. His Majesty said that he wanted to show it to me so that I’d know what to buy.” Peter explains, his brow furrowed as he observes the grimace on your face and the strange way you’re sitting.

The flowing gown you wear—slate blue around the shoulders down to the constricting bodice where it shifts and mixes with the peony pink fabric beneath the sheer top layer that then flows down to end in that same soft pink—puddles around you, soft to the touch.

It’s finer than anything you’ve worn in a while and the corset you’re wearing now forces your back straight once more.

You’d forgotten how uncomfortable the clothing you'd worn as Queen of Broklin could be. It was a hybrid of both pleasure and pain as the soft fabrics felt cool and heaven in touch but the stiff undergarments to help you fit into such fine dresses were forcing your body to readjust again.

The attempt to slouch and lean back against your chair in search of comfort does not go unnoticed by your once personal guard. Now rehired as you have returned.

“Are you in a lot of pain?” He worries, taking a step closer. His fists open and close as if he’s warring with wanting to reach out and help.

Everyone has been so attentive, so careful with you these past few days after your reappearance. It isn’t even so much that the clothing is too uncomfortable. The corset is tight indeed, but you were so malnourished when Steve found you again that your body had rejected all the rich foods that he’d sent for.

It wasn’t until Natasha thought to bring you simple unseasoned fish, vegetables, and plain water instead of wine that you managed to eat and retain the nutrition. Slowly they added saltier meats and seasoned vegetables and after five days of no missed meals, you were feeling stronger and more like yourself.

The only thing that weighs heavily on your mind still is your son. So much smaller than your daughter was at his age, or so Steve says.

Your husband cried into your chest for that first torturous night. Blissful yet painful. You were all so happy to be back together, finally you were all complete. The piece of yourself that you’d felt was missing had returned in you both, and still it was not enough.

It was excruciating to see your baby girl so grown. Walking, however clumsily, and talking. Her eyes when she sees you are full of confusion. There is no recognition there. Your heart breaks for the bond that you’ve lost.

For Steve, it was the sight of you and Joseph so feeble. So hungry for care and safety. The jumpiness that you’d developed once more having to watch your every step with Phin and the other village men who’d seen an easy target in an orphaned single mother.

He was devastated to know that you’d suffered the birth of your son alone. He hates to know that you fed on rats in your most desperate hours to keep your little one fed. It tears you apart to see him so agonized over it only to see that even through your efforts your son needed a doctor’s care.

Your body is not strong and because of this, everyone has been vigilant with the slightest change in your mood. Steve and Nat especially. Peter has been informed, clearly.

You meet his eyes and offer a smile.

“No. Not exactly. It’s been over a year. I must adjust again, that’s all.” You explain, refusing to give in to their worries about your health.

You feel much stronger already after less than a week. Your son is also more comfortable and seems to fuss a little more now that he has the energy to do so.

Natasha steps towards you, running her hand along the center of your spine.

“Perhaps I laced you too tightly? Once Peter leaves, I can adjust it and give you some relief.” She offers.

“I’m alright.” You smile, resisting the need to grimace again.

Turning back to Peter, you try to distract them.

“Why have you been tasked with the purchase of a sewing box?” This does the trick and both of them forget your discomfort.

“Oh, well his Majesty wishes to tell you himself. I will tell him you’re here and return as soon as I have what I need.” Peter takes a step back, the eagerness to complete his task pulling him away.

“Very well. Hurry back.” You smile at him fondly, a fond lilt to your words. “I have missed you.”

Peter nods, the corners of his lips turned up as he turns and shuts the doors behind him.

“If you aren’t feeling well, Steve will want to know.” Nat frowns, her hand still resting on your back.

“I’m perfectly alright.” You chuckle, reaching back to take her hand and remove it from your spine. “I would like to take a walk.”

You rise and despite yourself, groan as your body stretches. After so much time sleeping in a lumpy bed of hay, a soft plush mattress feels too firm and soft at the same time.

“Y/N…” Nat chastises.

“My body is sore. I’m not used to these soft beds anymore. They feel good when I first lay in them but after a few hours of sleeping my body becomes stiff. It will pass in time, Nat. I promise. I’m alright. Truly.” You walk away from her as you speak, refusing to be stopped and move towards your baby boy to tuck the blanket in around him.

His little crib is the same one that Maggie had slept in when she’d been an infant and your heart fills with warmth that Steve was right and that you would indeed have use for it once again.

Joseph shifts, his little fists flexing open and shutting once again as he coos then sleeps on.

“Will you stay with him?” You whisper, though you don’t need to. Joseph has slept through the worst storms.

“As you wish.” Nat sighs, moving to sit in the chair she’d placed beside him in case you’d wanted to sit down with him.

“If he gets hungry-” You fret.

“I’ll bring him to you.” She promises. “Go, enjoy your walk.”

You leave her in good spirits, feeling free in the safety of the estate walls after so much time spent looking over your shoulder.

Naturally, you allow your heart to lead you and you find yourself at the door to Maggie’s nursery. You can hear Samuel with her, his laugh mixed with her occasional little scream of excitement.

Slowly you open the door, pressing your hand against the wood to keep it as quiet as possible.

You spot them sitting on the floor amongst a pile of pillows that have been strewn across a large thick blanket. The windows on the far side of the room have been thrown open to allow a gentle breeze to cool the room.

Sam holds a luxurious doll made of soft fabric against his leg, his body relaxed as he leans against the wall beside a small shelf full of other toys made of wood and clay. There are other dolls too.

In front of him sits your toddler, her hands wrapped around a large green leg.

With a gasp you push the door open and stop to find Hulk sitting on the other side of the room taking up almost all of it. His arms are casually resting against his knees as your little girl giggles and reaches around to pinch Hulk’s massive calf.

He growls and she laughs again. Then Hulk laughs, and claps his hands twice shaking the entire room.

“Ha-ha!” He says with amusement in his eyes. “Princess laugh funny.”

You look to Sam, uncertainty gripping your chest and he rises then hurries to meet you by the door.

“Your Majesty.” He bows his head, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “Don’t be alarmed, they do this often. He won’t hurt her.”

“Queen Flower!” Hulk shouts, raising his hand to wave then points down at your daughter. “Look! Little Princess laugh funny.”

He lifts his massive leg, taking her with it as she sits on his foot and hugs him tighter. As he drops it, she giggles once.

“Do thing, Princess! Make Hulk angry again.” He orders her and like an obedient puppy, she reaches around and pinches his leg again.

Hulk growls. She laughs. He laughs and claps.

The sight, while frightening at first, fills you with joy.

Your little girl has been happy! You’re so grateful to all of them.

“She likes Bruce too, but she and Hulk have this connection that’s hard to argue with. We can’t keep them apart for long.” Sam explains.

“I’m glad.” You nod.

“He takes care of her. When she cries, he gets upset and won’t stop slamming his fists until she stops. That’s how this began.” Sam gestures at them as they continue to play.

“She was crying?” You fret, watching your little girl for the telltale signs that she had been shedding tears.

“She misses Steve. She cries at least once every time he has to meet with anyone for an extended period of time with affairs of the Kingdom. They’ve been attached at the hip since you disappeared.

“I think he clung to her so tightly because he sensed you in her. He was happy to be with her but he knew that something was missing. We all did, only most of us assumed it was Margaret.

“Steve even insisted once that it wasn’t her and that there was someone else that should be at his side. But he went to sleep and we ignored him. We assumed he was merely distraught. When he woke the next morning, he seemed to have forgotten his theory and we thought we were wise to move on.” Sam smiles, shrugging his shoulders as he fixes you with his sheepish grin. “Sorry.”

You and Steve haven’t talked much about your time apart that does not involve the children. Hearing that he'd felt as lost as you had during your separation eases the small bit in your heart that still wonders if Steve is truly in love with you.

“It’s of no importance.” You assure him. “We are together again now. That’s all that matters.”

“Maggie, look who’s here.” Sam calls to her, waiting for her to exclaim in delight at the sight of you.

While you know better.

As you expect she turns to look at you, her little eyes searching your face for recognition and it comes slowly. It isn’t the recognition of a mother yet but she still releases Hulk's leg and with unsteady feet rises and wanders over towards you.

“Hello my sweet flower.” Your heart expands at least fifty sizes—no, a hundred!—as you squat down to be closer to her.

She stumbles as she reaches you but falls into your arms with a giggle that you echo as you wrap your arms around her and lift her to your lap.

She's still so small. A baby. Your baby.

“I was just about to go take a walk in the garden. I want to see all the pretty flowers that your papa planted. Would you like to come with me, little flower?” You wait as she watches your mouth when you’ve finished speaking.

Her own moves silently as she reaches up to fidget with her ear as she thinks about it.

You’ve spent as much time as you can with her these past five days and because you’re in her places of home—her Papa's bed, his presence every moment that he can spare, at his dining table right beside him, in the bath while he sits with her in his lap and the two of you talk.

You’ve bathed her with you and tucked her in. Kissed her cheeks and chastised her when her tantrums grew insolent.

You have made yourself a thorn in her side but a place to seek comfort too.

So, when she turns back to you and places her little hands on your cheeks before wrapping them around your neck, you are ecstatic.

Sam helps you to your feet as Hulk rises and grumbles.

“Queen Flower steal funny baby. Hulk hate Queen Flower!” He says passionately before giving a great hurumph and springing through the large open window.

You watch him go with your mouth slightly open. Maggie turns to wave as Hulk disappears and Sam shakes his head.

“Ba-ba-ba!” Maggie calls out after him, her little hand limp as she swings her arm up and down.

“He doesn’t really hate you. He tells all of us that when we take her.” Sam relays and you’re surprised to feel a wave of relief that Hulk is also just throwing a tantrum.

“I’ve left Nat with Joseph while he sleeps. Will you tell her to bring him down when he wakes? I’d love to have them together. She���s still unsure of him I think.” You’ve noticed your little girl is jealous when Steve holds your son and you want them to love each other despite their time apart.

“Of course. Enjoy your walk, your Majesty. I’ll send a guard down for you as well. Steve would not like you two out in the gardens by yourselves.”

“Thank you, Sam. Are you ready my princess?”

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s been nearly four hours of warm morning sun spent with your daughter in the fragrant peony garden that Steve had built in the estate gardens.

Waves of pink sway in the sultry summer breeze and Maggie’s little legs falter as she inches towards you, her small fist rubbing sleepily at her eye.

She’d spent the morning running after you, giggling loudly before screaming with excitement. She’d fallen many times, then risen and continued the chase. You’d let her catch you and fall to the ground to embrace her before she squirmed from your arms to indicate your turn to chase.

Her adorable antics were topped when she managed to crawl underneath your skirts, painting the bottom her dress—which once again, matches your own just as they had before you’d lost time—green as she rolled around on the soft pea-green blades of grass.

When she tired you two sat in the shade of a large oak giving you a much-needed respite from the blazing sun. She was up after only ten minutes, however. Energetic baby that she is.

All the while, at the edges of the tall blue hydrangea and wine butterfly bush, just out of sight is your guard. Five men circling the outside of the long garden. Out of sight so that they do not disturb you and Maggie though often you catch them peeking over the hedge to catch glimpses of the little miss.

She’s just as popular as she was before you lost her.

Halfway through your walk, Natasha joins you with Joseph. A blanket spread out beneath the oak where she’d sat with him while you played with Maggie.

Stopping, you admire her as she walks towards you. She’s the spitting image of her father and when you’d once thought her lips resembled your own, you can now see that she’s turning into Steve more and more every day.

“Muh-muh-muh…” She mumbles, and your heart skips a beat. “Muh-muh…”

As she reaches you, she lifts her arms towards you, her little rosebud lips fixed into a cranky pout.

“Oh, my sweet girl.” You gush, ducking down to pick her up before you cradle her against your chest. She’s heavy compared to Joseph but you don’t care. You will suffer through aching arms to hold her close.

She immediately lays her head on your shoulder and wraps her arms around her neck again, her eyes closing as you caress the back of her head tenderly.

“Were you attempting to call me ‘Mama’?” You whisper, but she’s already asleep.

With her dozing, you move back towards the oak where Joseph lays on his back playing with his feet.

“Are you hungry?” Natasha wonders, already pushing up onto her knees and grabbing her skirts in preparation.

“A little.” You confess, but I can wait until Maggie wakes before we head back inside.”

“Would you like Steve to kill me for not feeding you?” Nat walks to meet you and then reaches to caress Maggie’s head as she stops beside you. “I’ll see what I can find for us. Will you be alright with them both?”

She seems to really be worried about whether you can handle your children alone and perhaps if you were at your strongest you’d be offended, but you take her words for what they are—love for you.

“Of course I can.” You assure her. “Maggie’s asleep.”

She tilts her head quickly, looking skeptical before she turns and leaves for the house.

As you approach your little boy who has taken to a constant cooing, you wonder how you’ll manage to put Maggie down beside him when you hear a call from the garden gate.

“Y/N!” He calls, deep but vibrant.

His voice is like a siren’s song and you stop and turn without hesitation.

Steve. Your heart is suddenly pounding and you’re eager to see his beautiful face.

As you turn to look, he’s already close, turning his sprint into a jog. His lips are stretched into a happy smile. His eyes are bright, blue as storm clouds, but happy to see you. No, ecstatic. No, he’s full of life at the sight of you, looking as if he’s just quenched a terrible thirst.

“I’ve been all over the estate looking for you.” He gives one long inhale and a quick exhale of breath as if he’s only just catching it.

Had he literally run around looking for you?

“I’m here.” You return his smile. “With our little ones.”

Steve’s cheeks blush a vibrant pink before he takes a half-step towards you and leans in, wrapping his right arm around your waist as he rushes to meet your lips with chaste but hungry kiss.

There’s a need behind his lips that doesn’t equate to desire, and you wonder what it is that he’s searching for.

For you, the press of his mouth against your own sends rapid flutters from your toes to the top of your head making all of your thoughts fuzzy.

As he pulls away, he places both hands on either side of your face. His thumbs are a gentle caress against your skin. His eyes devour your confuddled expression, a look of amusement turning his lips up once more.

“I missed that expression.” He tells you and embarrassment makes you huff a small laugh.

“You’re impossible.”

Steve chuckles.

With your greeting out of the way, his eyes find the baby in your arms then the one on the blanket.

Joseph has also spotted him and has taken to kicking in excitement, his little eyes wide and his mouth a small o as he spews out more goos and coos.

“Did my princess fall asleep?” Steve reaches for her, expertly taking her from you she doesn’t even stir.

“We’ve been out here all morning.” You tell him and with your arms free, you quickly move to Joseph’s side, grabbing him and sitting him upon your lap so that he might look at his papa with more ease.

It only makes him kick faster and you chuckle as he squirms.

“I think your prince would also like your embrace.” You adjust him again, a sigh of relief escaping you after your laugh.

It doesn’t escape Steve’s notice. As he sits himself down on the blanket with you, he places Maggie beside him, stroking her chest to make certain she remains asleep.

“You’re tired.” He frowns but takes Joseph when you lean over and offer him.

He places him between his legs facing him, but when he whines and leans towards him with his little arms reaching, Steve picks him back up and gives him his all his attention while he waits for you to respond.

“We have been enjoying the length of the garden.” You explain, scooting closer to Maggie and moving the hair away from her little face. “Which reminds me, why was it that you made a peony garden even when you did not remember me?”

Steve turns to you, allowing Joseph to push against his lap with his little legs, then looks up towards the branches while he thinks.

As his mind wanders, you admire the sight of him. He looks regal in his short-sleeved cream-colored tunic, the neckline high with tan embroidery along the edge of the seam at the front. It leaves his muscular arms exposed, sinew shifting beneath the smooth golden peach of his skin as your son kicks and Steve keeps him rooted to his spot.

His hair is short once more, trimmed for the heat of the season but his beard is as thick as ever.

Brown trousers and dark brown boots complete his casually regal look and he has never looked so good.

“I don’t think I could properly explain it. The garden back home was full of them around Margaret’s—that is, your pavilion. I knew it as Margaret’s with my memory of you gone.” He fixes his words though you feel only the faintest of shifts in your gut of the old jealousy and resentment you’d felt at the mention of Margaret. “I had no memory of changing her flower for them, but I knew that the reason for it was vital. Then as time went on, I craved the scent of them. Maggie and I would spend hours in your garden. I think even she felt your absence. She was more peaceful whenever we were there where the flowers reminds us both of your pleasing scent.”

You laugh, unable to help yourself.

“What?” Steve turns to you, adjusting Joseph in his arms as the little one tires out and yawns. With his little head resting against Steve’s chest, he begins to drift to sleep. “Why are you always laughing at the things I say?”

You take a few more moments to let the laugh flow, then shake your head.

“I’m not. I’m just…I only began to use scented oils and soaps when I accepted father’s task to marry you. If you want a true example of what I smell like, think back to the moment you met me on the road just days ago.” You explain.

Steve thinks back, the small crease between his eyes deep as he tries to remember.

“You smelled like hay. A little bit like sweat and earth, but also like Joseph. But there was also the scent of peonies in your hair, despite what you say. Perhaps it has become engrained into your very being after soaking in so many baths with it.” Steve smiles, his eyes glazed over as if he’s thinking about it.

The shift of his lips is a little coy, and the pink tint returns with vibrancy to his cheeks.

“Why are you blushing?” You narrow your eyes at him, certain you know exactly what it is he’s thinking.

“I’m not blushing.” He shakes his head, a look of denial plastered across his chiseled features.

“You are. How can you think of me in the bath with our children sleeping right beside us?” You demand, your face fixed into mock shock.

Steve blinks, at a loss at your accusation because it’s probably true.

“What? I am not-I don’t-I haven’t-You don’t-” He sputters, flustered by your flirting.

You chuckle and refocus on your daughter, admiring the way she breathes as she sleeps while thinking with amusement about the amount of times you’ve bathed with your little ones since returning and Steve having joined you often.

“Your Majesties!” From the garden gate Peter rushes, one arm wrapped around a wicker basket, the other carrying a rectangular box sealed with twine.

That must be the sewing kit.

“That took you all morning.” You observe as he approaches then stops at the edge of your blanket and gives you both a quick bow.

“Yes, I wanted to be sure I purchased the correct one.” Peter explains, but Steve’s eyes are on the basket.

“What is that?” He gestures at it, then fixes his gaze on the young knight.

“Oh, Natasha sent me with a lunch. Cold meats and a few mince pies. There’s a jug of wine and a gourd of water in there for her majesty.” He holds it out and Steve takes it, placing it near you.

“Eat.” He says simply. “While you can do so comfortably with the children sleeping.”

He’s probably right. You begin to pull the food from the basket and portion it out onto two small wooden plates Natasha had placed in the basket.

“Where shall I put the kit, your Majesty? The den?” Peter wonders, holding the box with both arms now that they’re free.

“Yes, that seems-” He begins but then stops as the heavy sound of a guard’s armor approaches.

All of you turn to look in his direction.

Behind him follows a girl who looks to be about Peter’s age. Her beauty is undeniable though she walks awkwardly in the simple gray gown she wears. It isn’t anything fancy but probably the nicest dress she owns.

Still nicer than anything you ever owned before you married Steve.

Her hair is long, falling to her waist in a stunning number of braids. Her brown skin shines golden under the summer sun, her eyes a sharp inky black yet wider than normal with the nervous energy you can see flowing through her. Although her facial features are small, they’re also sharp, brows wide and angular.

“She’s finally here.” Steve exclaims, making to rise before he realizes that he’s still cradling Joseph to his chest and sits back down.

“Your Majesty, this girl says she is here for a job?” The guard offers, and gestures to the lovely young lady at his side.

“Yes, thank you. You may go.” Steve dismisses him and waits for him to depart before he addresses the girl. “Hello again, Miss Jones. You’re right on time.”

Miss Jones takes hold of her skirts and quickly ducks into a curtsy as if just remembering she should be doing so.

“I hope I am not intruding.” She says nervously.

“Not at all.” Steve nods. “This is my wife and Queen. You will report directly to her from this day forth.”

“What?!” You gasp, so surprised your smile vanishes. “Report to me?”

“I have hired Miss Jones to assist you with the children. She will be your second lady in waiting to assist you when and if you should need someone and Natasha is not around or has other things to do.” Steve says pointedly. “You shall do whatever her majesty requires but she’s awfully selfless and terrible with implementing her authority so you might have to read into her needs a bit more than I made it sound like when we met before.”

As all of you look back to Miss Jones, you find that she’s still in her curtsy, her legs probably shaking as she teeters from side to side.

“Y-you don’t have to keep bowing.” Peter tells her and she snaps out of it, nearly toppling over as she stands up straight.

“Right,” Miss Jones says, now standing awkwardly before she decides to give you all a tight anxious smile. “I will do everything I can to serve you with honor, your Majesties.”

Steve looks pleased and after a few more moments of considering the girl, you relax.

“Thank you.” You nod. “I will do my best to be as little a burden as I can be.”

“See?” Steve shakes his head and Miss Jones smiles a little more genuinely. “For now, I think you should rest. You must be tired after your journey. Tomorrow you may commence your duties but for now, Peter? Will you show Miss Jones to her quarters?”

Miss Jones curtsies again as Peter bows. “Yes, your Majesty.”

“Thank you, your majesties.”

For a moment they both stand there awkwardly, waiting for the other to walk. Peter gestures towards the estate and Miss Jones seems to turn but is uncertain if she should. As he begins to walk, she gathers her skirts a bit so that she might walk beside him with steady feet.

You watch them steal several glances at each other. Miss Jones especially watches Peter with an uncertain but curious gaze.

“Oh, this is for you.” Peter tells her and holds out her sewing kit.

“Thank you.” Miss Jones says, taking the box.

“I can carry it for you.” Peter offers.

“Oh…” Miss Jones hands him the box again and they walk on.

As they reach the garden gate, their voices are faint, but you can just make out what they’re saying as they disappear through the hedge.

“Your gown is lovely.” Peter tells her, nervous for a moment as he offers the compliment.

“Would you like to borrow it?” Miss Jones asks, her face serious as she awaits his answer.

“What?” Peter stops walking, fixing her with a dumbfounded look.

“A jest.” She tells him, stopping too.

“Oh.” Peter smiles and nearly laughs but continues to walk. “Right.”

Miss Jones smiles. “Yes. It wouldn’t fit you. Your shoulders are too wide.”

“What are you smiling about?” Steve wonders, pulling your attention away from Peter and Miss Jones while he lays Joseph down beside Maggie.

You offer him a plate of food, shrugging as your smile grows wider.

“Life has a strange way of giving us just what we need when we need it.” You realize, looking at all three of the loves of your life.

“Just as life brought you to me, do you mean?” Steve nods. “Yes. Just what I needed.”

#king!steve x reader #king!steve rogers x reader #captain america x reader #royal au #medieval fantasy au #steve rogers x reader #steve x reader #captain america x reader fic #steve rogers x you fic #avengers x reader #marvel au #marvel fanfiction #pseudo princess #daddy!steve rogers x reader

[thetravelerwrites]

Dr. Maël Halvorg (Fae)

Rating: Teen Relationship: Male Part-Fae/Female Part Fae Additional Tags: Exophilia, Monster Boyfriend, Fae, Naga, Reader Insert, Anthropology, Genetics Content Warnings: Children, Pregnancy, Incubation, Infertility Words: 4723

A commission by @ivymemnoch​​! With Amai and Yenuno's children getting older, they need a teacher, and Amai calls a friend to help out. Please reblog and leave feedback!

The Traveler's Masterlist

“Amai, it’s great to hear from you!” You said, sitting back and sipping a coffee. You were typing up reports at your desk when she called. “God, it’s been forever since we last spoke. How are Yenuno and the children?”

You were surprised to get a call from your old friend while you were working overseas. You and Amai had gone to college together, and while she was getting a law degree in civil rights, you were studying anthropology. You were both in fields specializing in non-humans, which is why you were studying together.

There was a college that offered specific studies in exology, or the study of non-human sentient life, Exanian University. It provided classes in medicine, law, sociology, politics, cultural exo-anthropology, and many other subjects that focused solely on non-humans.

It was established in the early 1890’s and originally only taught humans about the nine Established races. The Established were allowed to attend school in the 50’s, and during the Neogon rights movement in the 80’s, the campus and curriculum was expanded to included education on the newer races that had begun to emerge as well as open its doors to non-humans. In addition, they began to petition and encourage other colleges to offer exological studies. Many alumni of E.U. were now teaching exological studies at other colleges.

You were now a research professor for E.U., studying newly emerged races and reaching out to those shy about integrating. When you first started your career, Amai and the firm where she worked would often help draw up protection papers for the new races until they were formally recognized as a Neogon race and therefore protected under the Neogon act, which granted them the same rights as humans and the Established. Though, as time went on, new races were much rarer, and you hadn’t needed their services. The surprise call was the first time you’d spoken in months, and you hadn’t seen her face-to-face in eight years.

“They’re well, thank you!” She said. “Whereabouts are you these days?”

“Portugal,” You replied. “We’ve had reports that the Encante people may actually exist, and we’ve been attempting to locate and make contact with them. Unfortunately, because they’re underwater creatures, they’re ability to shapeshift, and their reputation as seducers in the mythology of the region, it hasn’t been an easy task. Although, several people in the local villages claim to have Encantado ancestry, so we’re running blood tests to determine the legitimacy of that claim. If they’re blood comes back with unidentified DNA, we can start the protected race process. I assume that’s why you’re calling? You must have heard the news from Song. I sent him an email about drawing up papers a few days ago.”

“He did tell me, yes, and that’s wonderful news,” She replied. “But that’s actually not why I’m calling.”

“Oh?” You’re head rocked back, surprised. “To what do I owe the pleasure, then?”

“Well,” She sighed heavily. “The older children are at the developmental stage enough now where they should begin school, and the younger ones could use some help with supplemental skills. But both Yenuno and Dr. Halvorg don’t think putting them in a normal school a good idea, so I’ve been outvoted. At the very least, they need a tutor. I’ve done what I can on my own, but I’m not a very good teacher. At least, not for fifteen children. Soon to be eighteen, actually.”

“You’re carrying a new clutch?” You said, excited. “That’s wonderful! Yenuno must be very happy.”

“He is, and so am I,” She said, sounding please but tired. “Although we think this might be the last one. My body isn’t recovering as quickly as it used to and Yenuno worries about my health.”

“Understandable. So why did you call me?”

“Well, Yenuno doesn’t know anything about the educational system, having grown up in the wild, and Dr. Halvorg wants to hire some stuffy colleague of his who will bore the kids into a drooling stupor. Halvorg won’t accept anything less than the best, which I mean… I guess it’s nice that he wants the kids to have nothing but the utmost quality, I just wish he wasn’t so damn rigid. He needs to get laid, honestly,” She huffed, and you stifled a laugh. “Do you have someone you could recommend?”

“To get him laid?”

She snorted. “No! You know what I mean. Do you think any of your colleagues at the university would be interested in educating the children of a rare, endangered race? That’s got to have appeal to you academic types, right?”

“Hmm,” You hummed, sitting back in your chair and contemplating. “I’m not sure. You know, it occurs to me that I’ve never even met your children. Or your husband, for that matter.” You sat up and looked at your calendar. “You know what? I’m due for a vacation. Why don’t I come back state-side and meet all of your little ones? I can get a better idea of who would be a good fit for them. I know several people in early education who could be great for tutoring a large group of children at different development levels.”

“Ah, you’re a lifesaver, thank you so much,” Amai said. “I’ll owe you one big time.”

“Just find me a man and we’ll call it even,” You said, laughing. “I’ll text you when my schedule frees up and we’ll make some plans.”

Two weeks later, you stepped off the plane of the airport in Coleville and rented a car. Willowridge was an out of the way town that had the E.U. campus where you and Amai had gone to school. It was a little bit of a drive from the city to get there, but Coleville had the closest airport.

You arrived at the research facility sometime around mid-afternoon, greeted out front by Amai and her youngest child, Yenu. Yenu was a 50/50 hybrid between naga and human, which was unheard of; all other hybrids were a 95/5 percent split since the males both created and fertilized the eggs. Females were simply incubators in the breeding process. Yenu was a curious mix between Amai and her father, from her stubby little legs to her long snake tail and the blue scales running down her neck and back. From an academic perspective, it’s no wonder this Dr. Halvorg was so keen on keeping her and her siblings in the facility for study.

On the other hand, she was adorable, and the entire world needed to know about it. You wondered how many specialists actually knew about her existence and why there wasn’t more published about her in scientific literature. You’re fairly sure there was only one article based on her, and it was authored by Dr. Halvorg. They were likely keeping her under strict protections until she was older, to spare her the media circus.

“It’s so good to see you!” You said as you scooped her into a hug. Her belly wasn’t big yet, but you could feel it’s hardness against your own belly. Yenu squealed happily in her arms as you squished the two of them.

“You, too!” She said, kissing your cheek. “How was the drive?”

“Scenic, as always,” You said, following her as she went inside. “I got the email from Dr. Halvorg last night about accommodations. You’re right: he’s a little abrupt, but in all honestly I’ve yet to meet a geneticist that isn’t.”

“Believe it or not, he’s way less uptight than he used to be. The children really help lighten him up.”

“He likes kids?” You said, your opinion of him rising slightly.

“Oh, very much,” She said, then her voice lowered to a sad whisper. “He can’t have any children, apparently. His kind are bad breeders, he says.”

“His kind?”

“He’s part fae,” She replied.

“Oh,” You said, frowning. “That’s odd.”

“What is?”

“Well, I’m part fae, too, and I have three brothers. And I know of several subraces of fae that are prolific breeders, several of which I helped integrate myself. Exogenetics is still an evolving science. Perhaps he has been so focused on his current work that he hasn’t checked recent literature in the field. He’s been working in conservation for several decades, didn’t you say? I’ll make some calls and see what I can find.”

“I forgot you were part fae,” She said thoughtfully. “What subrace are you, again?”

“Russian Bereginya,” You replied. “What is he?”

“I’ve never asked,” She said. “He very rarely talks about himself at all. Honestly, it seems like a sore subject with him, so I’ve never brought it up. Even Yenuno seems hesitant to ask, and he gets along better with Dr. Halvorg than I do. The only reason I know his first name is because I’ve seen it on official reports. Only the children are allowed to say it, even if it’s to call him ‘Uncle Maël’.”

“A hard nut to crack, huh?” You asked as she led you into the public lobby and fished out a personnel I.D. badge.

“You could say that,” She said. “He and I don’t always see eye to eye, at least.” She swiped her card in a card slot and pressed her thumb on the printpad. “I’ve got a temporary I.D. waiting for you in the back. It’ll be good for the next two weeks. Let me know if you decide to stay longer, and I’ll have the expiration extended.”

“Sure, thanks,” You said.

“You’re about to meet the man himself,” She said as she walked though an automatic sliding door. “Plus my man, and my children. You remember their names?”

You nodded. “It’ll take me a while to match names to faces, though. You always were an overachiever.”

She laughed.

The two of you walked into what looked like the receiving room of a warehouse, except it was empty. There was a large, rolling aluminum wall that was raised and led to a forested area outside. There was an enclosed greenhouse type thing that had several nests built, as well as a cottage at the far end.

Each little nest had a small body with blue scales and warm almond skin lying in it, curled up into a coil, eyes closed and breathing softly. The cottage at the far end also had a movable wall, which was up, and a large, blue naga with long, straight, black hair and pale skin was sitting there, typing on a laptop that was perched on a standing desk.

“Yenuno is a bit socially shy, so he connects with others through the internet,” Amai whispered. “It’s about as much social interaction with the outside world as he can tolerate sometimes.”

“It must be naptime,” You whispered back, nodding toward the kids.

She laughed softly. “The older ones only need to eat once a day now, depending on the size of their prey, and they get tired after hunting and feeding, so we schedule it for noon. They should be up soon, though.”

She waved her hand to get Yenuno’s attention. He looked up and smiled, closing the laptop. He slithered down the ramp, over to Amai to plant a kiss on her lips, and then took Yenu in his arms, tossing her up once to make her giggle before squishing her in a big hug and blowing a raspberry into her cheek. Amai shushed him.

“Let’s go to the lounge to talk,” Amai said quietly. “Yenuno, this is my friend I told you about, the professor from E.U.”

“It’s nice to meet you finally,” Yenuno said as the three--no, four--of you went to a sitting area nearby. Half of the room had chairs and a couch, while the other side had cushions with a table in between. “Amai has told me many stories about you.”

“Most of them are true,” You said, sitting. “But I won’t say which.”

He laughed and set Yenu on the floor in front of him, watching her carefully as she scooted her way across the carpet. “Dr. Halvorg will be around soon. He usually talks to the children after their naps about their hunting experiences.”

“Jeez, I thought I was a workaholic,” You said. “Does he ever relax?”

“Not that I’ve ever seen,” Amai said, handing you a cup of coffee from the bar behind the couch. “If he’s awake, he’s in research mode. He even works through meals.”

“Well, I’ll hope he’ll make some time so I can discuss the children’s developments with him.”

“Oh, if it’s for the kids, he’ll make time,” Yenuno replied. “He’s practically adopted them.”

“I swear, if he thought he could get away with it, he’d forge our signatures on adoption papers,” Amai said sardonically.

“Speak of the devil,” Yenuno said, jerking his head at the open loading space near the greenhouse. A man stood there, surveying the sleeping children for a moment before heading over to the lounge area. He was thin and tall with long, white-blonde hair in a sleek braid down his back. He was pale complected and had a sharp, angular face with bushy eyebrows and vivid, amber colored eyes. His ears had a definitive point to them.

Yep, definitely Celtic fae heritage; you could spot it a mile away. It’s true that the Celtic fae populace had dwindled over the years, though you hadn’t really considered why. You chalked it up to interbreeding with other races or being edged out of their territory. Historically, since fae were immortal, or at least very long lived, they often didn’t feel the biological incentive that mortal creatures felt to procreate. Could their long-held disinterest in breeding have eventually rendered them infertile? That was a startling thought.

“Is this the professor I’ve heard so much about?” Dr. Halvorg asked as he approached. Yenu toddled her way over to him on her short little legs and he picked her up, popping her onto his hip like a pro.

“Yes,” Amai said and introduced you. Dr. Halvorg used his free hand to shake yours.

“Lovely to meet you,” He said. “I look forward to working with you. You have an impressive reputation. I’ve actually been following your progress for quite a while.”

“Really?” You asked, surprised.

“Oh, yes,” He replied, shifting a squealing Yenu to the opposite hip. “You’re the foremost anthropologist in the field currently. You and your team are responsible for integrating over thirty percent of known Neogon races in the last ten years. As a geneticist, as a scientist, seeing the steady expansion and confirmation of known non-human races happen in my lifetime is pretty incredible to watch.”

“Wow,” You said, stunned. “I didn’t realize I had such a reputation.”

“Well, you’ve been in the field for a long time,” He said with a smile. “It’s not surprising that you might not be aware of the impact your work has had on the world.”

You may have blushed, but you’d never have admitted it. Thankfully you were spared from finding a way to follow up that statement by a range of sleepy groans issuing from the enclosure. One by one, the children began to stretch and yawn and make their way over to their parents, the first of which was one of the youngest.

“Mommy!” He said, his curly hair bouncing as he slithered over the lip of the carpeted lounge area. “Who’s that?” He pointed directly at me.

“Osan, it’s not polite to point!” She said sharply. “This is my friend who I told you was coming to meet all of you. Wait for your brothers and sisters to get over here before we start introductions, okay?”

Osan shot across the enclosure to rudely awaken the rest of his siblings. His excited hollering echoed throughout the empty enclosure.

“Ah, youth. I’d love to siphon some of that energy and drink it like an espresso,” Amai said.

“Girl, I hear that,” You replied, chuckling.

A small army of nearly identical naga children came following Osan, curious about you, chattering and craning their necks to get a better look at you.

“Kids, line up, line up,” Yenuno said, wading out into the sea of small clones of himself. “These are the five year olds: Keenai, Tani, Fuma, and Amaia. The four year olds: Nenish, Tahara, and Sadji. The three year olds: Jinsa, Ishni, Chidil, Itheti, and Dashu. The two year olds: Osan and Khuzho. And little Yenu is eight months old.”

“I don’t know how you tell them all apart,” You laughed.

“I have a mole!” Sadji said, pointing at it. “See!”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” You said, bending down to pat his head. He shook off your hand but laughed. You tickled his chubby cheek and he giggled, trying to fend you off.

“So what would you like to do?” Amai said. “I assume you already have a plan.”

“Yes,” You said. “I’d like to interview each child with a behavioral therapist and get a sense of their development levels myself, and then Dr. Halvorg and I will compare notes. I can make my determination then.”

“Sounds good,” Amai replied. “But it doesn’t have to be today, does it? You just got into town. I’d love to take you out for an early dinner, if you haven’t eaten. Yenuno hunted with the kids, so he likely won’t eat again until morning.”

“Sure, I’d love to,” You said. “Dr. Halvorg, do you have dinner plans?”

“Oh, no, I have a lot of work to do,” He said. “Besides, I’m sure the two of you will want to catch up. Please, enjoy yourselves. If you all would excuse me, I have a report to write.” He kissed Yenu on the cheek before handing her back to Amai and tousled a few of the kids’ hair as he passed. “Come along, children. Let’s do our interviews and I’ll take you all out to the playground.”

The kids cheered and followed him down the hall to the offices.

“You weren’t lying, Amai, he is really good with kids,” You said.

“Between him and the volunteers, we never have to hire a babysitter, which is nice,” Yenuno replied.

“Some days, it’s his only redeeming feature,” Amai said with a sour smile. “I still haven’t quite forgiven him for what happened when I was pregnant with Yenu. If I sit too long, thinking about it, I get mad all over again.”

“Think of the eggs, my love,” Yenuno said patiently, patting her belly. “He’s apologized many times since then. You can’t hold a grudge forever.”

“I absolutely can,” She said churlishly. “I understand his job is conserving and repopulating your species, but our marriage is an entirely separate thing and he can keep his nose out of it.”

“Well, let’s get a cheesecake and forget all about it,” You suggested.

“Sound good to me,” She said. She kissed Yenuno on the lips and waved goodbye to him. “There’s a new Italian place that’s got really good reviews.”

“No seafood! Or wine!” Yenuno called after her.

“This ain’t my first rodeo!” She called back.

The Italian place was as good as Amai said it was, and the two of you went to Tumble’s Cafe for dessert and coffee. Tumble had actually been a client of Amai’s when a hate crime had been committed against him. Now his wife and kids had two shops open in town and were doing very well for themselves.

Lucy, Tumble’s wife, was a few years your junior and a mother of three. Amai and Lucy had become close friends over the years and they were both in an interspecies mommy group. You knew of her, since you’d both grown up in the same small town, but you hadn’t actually met her before. Amai told you that the triplets often played with her children at the park, and you had to stop for a moment and contemplate the strange image of bunnies and snakes playing together.

“Is this the professor?” Lucy asked as you came in with Amai.

“Did you tell the whole town I was coming?” You asked Amai.

“I didn’t need to,” Amai replied with a laugh. “Word gets around.”

“What can I get you guys?” Lucy asked, a big smile on her freckled face.

“Coffee and cheesecake to go, please,” You said.

“Oh, no coffee for me,” Amai interjected. “Can I have a decaf iced cinnamon chai instead?”  

“You got it. Whipped cream on top?”

“Yes, please. Where’s Tumble?”

“Putting the kids to bed upstairs,” Lucy said. “Such a good daddy. We’re talking about having more.”

“More than three?” You asked as she handed you a steaming cup of coffee. “I can’t imagine having more than two, at the most.”

“I guess it comes with having a non-human partner who’s used to the idea of having many children,” Lucy said, nodding at Amai, who tilted her head in agreement. “Not all non-humans have litters or clutches, but the ones who do always want more kids. At least the girls are in school now andTumble gave me a good five years before asking for another litter, unlike supermom over here. How’s that going on your end, by the way?”

“That’s why the professor is here,” Amai said, bumping you slightly with her shoulder. “She just got in today. The evaluations start tomorrow.”

“Well, good luck.” She handed you a box that contained two generous slices of cheesecake.

“Thanks, Lucy,” Amai said as the two of you left. “I’m sure I’ll be back in here soon. Tumble’s pastries are the best in town.”

“I’ll tell him you said that!” Lucy said with a laugh, waving.

The next morning, you began setting up for the individual assessments when Dr. Halvorg entered the room.

“Good morning,” You said. “Are you observing with the behavioral specialist?”

“I am the behavioral specialist,” He said. “I have a PhDs in child psychology and clinical psychology.”

“How many degrees do you have?” You asked, impressed.

“A few,” He admitted. “I’ve been alive for quite a long time, so I go back every once in a while to get another, or for a refresher. The education for each degree is much different now than it was fifty years ago.”

“How old are you?” You asked. “I know you’re part fae.”

“Amai told you that, eh?”

“Maybe,” You replied. “I mean, I’m part fae, too, so it’s not like I’m bothered by it.”

“You are?” He asked, looking at you keenly. “That wasn’t in your dossier. European?”

“Russian, and it’s not really a secret. I’m surprised you didn’t already know; I figured Amai would have said something. I was actually thinking you and I should have a conversation about that.”

He looked at you with an indecipherable expression and opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, one of the eldest children came in the door.

“Later,” He said. You nodded.

The evaluations were interesting. The children were advanced for their ages, though Dr. Halvorg told you that was normal among nagas, who had to mature quickly in the wild. Watching them problem solve during the assessment was actually fascinating. They grasped new concepts relatively quickly and were wildly curious. They actually seemed happy to learn new and unusual things and kept asking you about your work with new races. You imagined they got a lot of that exuberance from Amai. Yenuno seemed a great deal more anxious and withdrawn.

The assessments took the entire day, and Dr. Halvorg asked you back to his office to compare notes when they were done.

“I think Ishni is slightly behind the others in his age group, or rather his brothers are more advanced. Honestly, it’s hard to tell with nagas. Their development is so unusual.”

“I would agree,” Dr. Halvorg said. “With Ishni being behind, that is. But it’s nothing some focused work won’t fix. The rest of them are advancing well, based on the available statistics for their age groups.”

“Yes, it’s shocking how quickly they pick up new things. I wouldn’t be surprised if they completed a full curriculum in just a few years.”

“Based on today’s evaluations, do you have a candidate in mind who would work for them?” He asked.

You sighed heavily. “I do,” You said. “I actually know of several that would be good fits. Unfortunately, all of those people are currently under contract.”

“Oh,” Dr. Halvorg said. “I thought you said you knew someone who would be perfect for this job.”

“I said early development!” You replied. “But these children don’t need early development. That’s shapes and colors and numbers and things like that. All of these kids can already read. Even the two year olds! They need more advanced tutelage, and I didn’t realize that when Amai first asked.”

“So what would you recommend?”

You sat back in your chair. “Give me a few days to think it over and make some calls and I’ll get back to you. In the meantime, just go about things as normal. I’d like to observe how things run here naturally.”

“Is that in reference to the search for an educator?”

“No, it’s for my own personal observations,” You said, smiling. “I am still an exo-anthropologist, after all, and quite honestly, the last couple of days have been riveting.”

He grinned. “A woman after my own heart.”

Two nights later, you walked into the enclosure after dinner to a strange sight: Dr. Halvorg reading the kids a bedtime story. He was sitting on the ground in the circle of nests and reading from a big book of non-human fairy tales. Race appropriate ones, of course. It was so unusual that all you could do was lean against the doorframe and listen.

When he finished, he helped settle all of the children and wished them a good night, and set the lights to starlight, with little pinpricks of light shining through the ceiling. When he saw you, he walked over.

“So, no good,” You said. “There aren’t any teachers who can come in on short notice.”

He sighed unhappily. “Well, what now?”

“I’ve decided that until they make contact with the Encante people, I’m not needed, so I might as well make the most of my time here and be the kids’ tutor until I need to go back or a teacher is made available.”

“Really?” Dr. Halvorg said, surprised. “Well, the kids like you, and you’re certainly well-educated. Have you ever taught before?”

“Briefly at E.U.,” You replied. “I taught one year of anthropology. It was nice staying in one place for a while, and the students seemed receptive to me. I only left because I was needed for a first contact situation.” You looked around. “Where’s Yenuno and Amai?”

“Date night,” He said. “They’re off… doing whatever people do on dates these days. I haven’t dated in decades, so I’m not certain what that entails anymore.”

“I could fix that, if you like,” You offered.

He smiled, but tilted his head. “How do you mean?”

“You could go on a date with me,” You said. “Since I’m going to be staying a while and working with you, it’ll be nice to get to know you better. And… maybe more than that.”

He looked like you’d hit him with a brick. He was still smiling confusedly, but his mouth was open and he couldn’t seem to speak.

“You okay there?” You asked.

“Ye--yes,” He stammered. “Forgive me. I… I appreciate the offer, but… I... I, uh…”

“It’s okay to say no, Maël,” You replied, laughing a little. “You don’t have to find an excuse. ‘No’ is a valid answer.”

He laughed a little self-consciously. “I’m sorry. I’ve been married to my work for so long that I just haven’t considered the possibility of dating. It’s… not something I’m interested in. I hope you understand.”

“Of course,” You replied. “That’s completely fine. And if you change your mind, that’s fine too. You know how to get in touch with me. No pressure. We’re both adults, after all.”

“Yes,” He said, adjusting his glasses. “I appreciate that. Thank you for the offer.”

“Think nothing of it,” You said. “I should get back to work. See you tomorrow.”

“Yes,” He repeated. You waved and walked away, unaware of his curious, piercing gaze on your retreating back.

Since my work is no longer searchable, please do me a favor and reblog this story if you enjoyed it. Help me reach a wider audience! To help me continue creating, please consider buying me a Kofi, becoming a Patron, or donating directly to my PayPal!

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My Masterlist

The Exophilia Creator’s Masterlist

#Exophilia #Fae #Naga #Reader Insert

[lia-jones]

Growing Stronger - Chapter Three - Happy Birthday, Andrea! (Victor’s POV)

Victor was having one of those days. Which was uncanny, because he never had one of “those” days. Ever. He was perfectly able to separate his personal life from his work, proficient in the art of putting emotions aside to deal with issues at hand. That was exactly what made him a good businessman. It was also what gave him his fame of being cold and aloof, although he didn’t mind. It worked, it gave him good results. However, for the life of him, he found himself unable to concentrate, his eyes constantly being drawn to his phone.

Annoyingly persistent, the question hammered in his mind: should he call her? After all, it was her birthday. They were practically business partners, it would be rude not to call. She knew he knew when her birthday was. Like the excellent administrator he was, Victor quickly drafted on a piece of paper a list of costs and benefits of said call. The benefits were obvious. Number one, it was a show of goodwill; number two, it would improve business relations; Number three, it was a polite gesture. He grudgingly added a fourth benefit, not because he would willingly admit it, but because it was a fact, and facts needed to be addressed, no matter how painful or embarrassing they were. Number four, he would love to hear her voice.

Victor sighed heavily as he read the fourth point of his benefit list. He was a fool. Moving on, he thought. The costs of calling Andrea to wish her a happy birthday. Number one, it would probably upset her. Judging by their last encounter, she wanted to have nothing to do with him. She even threatened to quit the study in case he was involved. He was clearly a persona non grata. Number two, he shouldn’t be wasting his time with such a thing. She would probably have gotten one of those automatic Happy Birthday messages from LFG, since she was a former employee. Maybe that’s all he had to do. He didn’t go around calling every business partner to wish them a Happy Birthday. It was simply ridiculous. Inefficient. Number three… Victor wished he didn’t have to write this down. Number three, he was probably forcing himself into her life, just like he did with the producer. Except this time she had made it perfectly clear she didn’t want him there. She slapped him and left. Because he was an idiot and said something very hurtful in the hope of winning an argument.

Victor gave up on the list and lowered his head, holding it between his hands. He had called Daniel all the ugly names he knew, and now those names could perfectly describe him. He told Andrea her infertility was a silver lining. What kind of an asshole says that to the woman he loves? Especially to Andrea, who went through so much, was capable to change her life for the better, to face her abuser with courage and integrity, how could he throw such a cheap blow? No wonder she didn’t want him in her life. She loved him like nobody did before, gave him unprecedented happiness, she lovingly tore down every single wall he built, and they connected in ways he never deemed possible. She showed him sometimes he could be his worst enemy, depriving himself of happiness for pride and... Well, mostly pride.

Victor had to make it up to her, he had to make sure everything in her life worked perfectly. He could no longer hold her, or kiss her, or tell her he loved her, but he could ensure she got everything she ever wanted. That was the real reason he was investing in her study. He knew that the moment LFG was involved and he put his plan in motion to diffuse all the gossip around her, no one could stop the momentum her study would have. Everybody would want to invest in it. She would be virtually unstoppable.

The sound of a knock on his door made Victor internally panic and quickly throw the list to the trash, effectively eliminating any evidence of his weakness. It was Goldman. Victor spoke before Goldman could, pretending to be focused on his work.

“Talk.” He said, dismissively. He watched Goldman shift his weight anxiously from one foot to the other. Victor did not have to fake his exasperation. “What is it?”

Goldman took a deep uneasy breath. Seeing he was nervous, Victor softened his expression.

“Take a seat. What do you need?”

Goldman relaxed when he heard Victor’s softer tone, and sat down.

“I don’t know if you have heard, Diane and I got engaged.” He started.

“Yes, I am aware.” Victor offered, giving him a small smile.

“Sir, first of all I have to say I am beyond grateful for all you have done for me over all of these years. If it weren’t for you, I would probably still be living on friends’ sofas, or maybe the street. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have a career, a dignified life, and I wouldn’t have met my future wife. I owe it all to you, Sir.”

Victor was not expecting this sudden expression of gratitude. Goldman had been a good companion over the years, enduring his hard temper, listening whenever Victor couldn’t hold it inside anymore and needed to confide, even if he only allowed himself a few very short outbursts. Victor had put all his trust in his assistant, and he had proven to be worthy. He was the one who should be grateful. Goldman continued.

“I know you will probably consider this a waste of your time, but I still have to ask. Will you be the best man at my wedding?”

Victor was thrown back by Goldman’s question. Andrea was absolutely right. The memory of both of them in his bed, enjoying post-coital bliss, came to his mind. “I found it.” He could hear her voice like she was there right there, in his arms, head on his chest.

“You found what?” Victor’s head raised from the pillow.

“My favorite place on Earth.” She smiled. Victor raised an eyebrow.

“My bed?”

“Your arms.”

Victor’s heart beat faster, and he couldn’t help but hold her really tight, butterflies running wild inside his stomach.

“They’re yours.” He lifted her chin and kissed her softly. “I’m yours.”

They stayed like that for a moment, face to face, noses touching, a smile on their faces. Victor felt relaxed, happy, noticing how perfectly Andrea fitted in his embrace.

“Goldman invited us to go on a double date.” Victor started.

“Yeah, Diane mentioned it too. I told her not to get her hopes up.” She said, pulling herself back down to lie her head on his chest.

“Why not?”

“You want to do it?” She seemed surprised. Did she think he would say no?

“Well, she’s a close friend of yours, right? The idea does not make me exactly euphoric, but if it’s something you’d like, I don’t mind.”

“Goldman is your friend too.” She retorted.

“Goldman is my employee. It’s different.”

“No, Goldman is your friend. He might be your best friend actually.” She lifted her head from his chest, making Victor resent the cold of her absence. She had this resolve in her eyes, that sweet expression she wore when she was trying to make a point. “Goldman has been working with you for what, seven years?”

“Eight. So what? I have employees working for me for longer than that.”

“Employee or not, the guy has taken your crap for eight years, and you know how hard you can get. He knows all your quirks, probably knows more about your personal life than even I do. He’s your go-to guy, and maybe you don’t care to admit it, your confidant?”

She wasn’t wrong. Goldman was all of those things. Except for confidant. Victor enjoyed his privacy.

“You may be right.” He said, furrowing his eyebrows. “Who knew you’d be so insightful?” Victor teased.

“Who thought I wouldn’t be?” The tone of her voice raised slightly, as she pretended to be offended. Victor played along.

“Well, everybody knows I’m the wise one in the relationship.” Victor jested, as he pulled her closer.

“Oh really? And when was that established? I was not informed of such an important conclusion.”

“We had a meeting.” Victor declared nonchalantly. “Didn’t you get the memo?”

“Clearly I didn’t. So, if you’re the wise one, what is my role, then?”

Victor stifled a laugh.

“The village idiot.”

“Good night, then.” She said shortly, motioning to move away from him, pretending to be upset. Victor hugged her waist, keeping her in place.

“Wait, don’t go.” He said, between laughs. “You don’t like your title?”

“I don’t know what a title is, I’m the village idiot.” She squinted at him, as she tried to free herself from his grip.

“Do you think I’m letting you escape that easily?” Victor pinned her arms against the mattress, kissing her. She was still pretending to be angry, as she didn’t kiss him back. “Kiss me.” He urged in a hush.

“I’m the village idiot, I don’t know how to kiss.”

“I’ll show you then. Follow my lead.” He was still playing along, but his mind was filled with desire. He wanted her again. His tongue glided on her lips, his teeth biting them, inviting them to join the kiss. Andrea blew a raspberry on his mouth. Maybe she wasn’t playing anymore. Was she offended with what he said?

“You’re angry?” He asked, suddenly worried, as he let go of her arms.

“And I’m the village idiot?” She said smiling, pulling him from a proper kiss. She could be so endearingly frustrating sometimes.

“Maybe I’m the idiot.” Victor spoke into her lips, before claiming what was his.

Victor cleared his throat, fearing he drifted away in his memory longer than he should.

“It will be my pleasure.” He answered Goldman, who in return looked at him like he had grown an extra head.

“R-Really?” He stuttered with surprise. “Thank you, Sir!”

“You have been working close to me for the last eight years. It’s about time you call me Victor.” Victor gave him a slight smile. “In fact, I would like to give you my wedding gift immediately. Pick a venue for the wedding, flowers, caterers, anything you need, and bill it to LFG. Your wedding will be my gift to you.”

Victor suppressed a smile when he saw the panic on Goldman’s face.

“Sir, it’s too much. I don’t know what to say…”

“It’s Victor.” He warned. “Don’t think too much of it, consider it a token of appreciation for all these years of loyalty. Now, let’s get back to work.” Victor declared, turning to his computer.

“Absolutely… Victor. Is there anything you need?”

Victor paused for a moment, pondering.

“Yes. Cancel all my meetings for the rest of the day. I’m going home. Call me if anything comes up.” He answered, gathering his belongings to leave.

The terrace was filled with fairy lights. Balloons saying “Happy Birthday” were tied to the rim of the balcony. On the center, a table with two seats, already set with colorful plates and some candles.

Victor was confident that she wouldn’t remember his birthday. He made sure of it, he didn’t care for birthday celebrations. When she told him that she couldn’t go to his place for dinner because she needed to work on her thesis, he saw nothing unusual. When she called him telling him she needed him, he practically flew to her apartment. Clearly, when it came to Andrea, Victor didn’t do all the thinking with his head.

She hugged him from behind. He took her hand and pulled her to his chest, making her face him, his arms around her.

“Surprise!” She said, beaming at him.

“I really have to watch my back with you, don’t I?” He playfully raised his eyebrow at her.

“Happy birthday, handsome.” She kissed him. To Victor, just that kiss alone was worth the whole hustle. He held her tighter and deepened the kiss, decided to prolong the warm feeling for as much as he could. Like it happened so many times with Andrea, he wished he could still stop time. She broke the kiss with a mile-wide smile.

“Wait, don’t go thanking me yet. I’m not done.”

She had a whole meal prepared for both of them. His favorite white wine, that Portuguese fish stew he tried in Portugal and absolutely loved. Victor ate with gusto, trying not to moan with each bite he took. It was delectable. Maybe he should let Andrea cook more often.

A chocolate raspberry cake came after, decorated with 34 lit candles. Despite his protests, Andrea sang him Happy Birthday and made him blow the candles and make a wish. Victor felt himself blush with all the attention. Well, he could just blame it on the wine.

Andrea went to her apartment with the dirty dishes, returning with a wrapped box.

“I do hope you like it. I saw it and thought it would bring out your eyes.”

Victor smiled as he opened his present carefully. He didn’t know what it was yet, but it was already on the list of his most prized possessions. It was a dark teal shirt. Very tasteful. He could already picture it with some of his suits. He pulled Andrea to his lap, kissing her.

“I take it you liked it?” She gave him a wide smile.

He loved it. He loved it all. He never enjoyed birthdays, apart from those he had spent with Mia. But this was different. He didn’t spend his time wondering if his feelings were reciprocated, he knew they were. Victor felt love and felt loved. That feeling alone was the best gift Andrea could give him.

Victor read the list he saved from the trash one last time. He went to his bedroom, and opened the drawer of the nightstand, retrieving the small box. He had bought it a while ago for this specific occasion. The box would go to its designated owner.

Victor wrote a small note and attached it to the box, putting it on the passenger’s front seat of his car, and drove to Andrea’s apartment. He would leave it in her mailbox and leave. It wouldn’t take him more than five minutes.

The box was too big to fit through the narrow slit of her mailbox. Victor stood there for a moment, contemplating on what to do. Leave it on her doormat? That’s when he heard someone call his name. He took a step back, startled.

He couldn’t recognize the voice in the dark at first. As the man approached, he saw who it was. A man is his late fifties, hazel eyes, blonde hair. That sincere, easy smile, the one Andrea usually wore. It was her father.

#Growing Pains - Series #growingstronger #mlqc victor #mlqc fanfic #mlqc li zeyan #victor x oc #love and producer #mister love queens choice

[ahkaraii]

Rarepair generator: Zabuza & Kisame (1600 words)

Kisame is the first to sniff him out among the mountain of corpses that litter the ruins of the Academy. It’s easy because, the closer he gets, the thicker the miasma of killing intent becomes. Like a cornered dog kicked too many times, the class-killer growls low in warning, black eyes wide and bloodshot.

A total runt, Kisame thinks disappointedly.

“Congratulations,” Kisame says instead, and drops a freshly pressed towel and a water bottle at the feet of the boy in question. “You are now officially the youngest ninja of the Hidden Village of the Mist.” He looks around gamely. “Seems like you’ll stay that way for a while, too, seeing as you killed all the competition.”

The kid is stiff and silent but clearly hungry. He scrabbles over for the water bottle and drowns it in a rush, his thin neck pulsating with every swallow.

“What’s your name, soldier?” Kisame asks.

“Don’t have one,” the kid rasps, revealing filed teeth. A bastard of some Hozuki, most likely.

“An orphan, huh...” Kisame looks at that emaciated body and does some quick mental math. “You’re not even an academy student, are you?”

The kid has the audacity to flash him a sneering grin. “Now, no one is.”

“Hm,” Kisame says. "We might have a problem.”

--

They have a problem.

They’re at war with half the elemental countries and already bleeding soldiers faster than they can breed them, and now a whole generation of up-and-comings have been eliminated by an insolent upstart with no family to take the fall for it all. The Mizukage is, understandably, pissed the fuck off.

But maybe it’s a sign the runt’s gonna be destined for great things ‘cause he’s the reason the Mizukage finally does away with the Hidden Mist’s infamous graduation exam. Kisame’s not particularly glad of it -- he killed his classmates and came out all the stronger for it, in his opinion -- but he’s smart enough not to question it.

Then, shockingly, after ten years of ceaselessly hunting down those with a bloodline limit due to a failed coup composed of the very same, the Mizukage relents and orders that no further harm may come to them. Indeed, they are encouraged to reveal themselves and join the war effort. 

Terumi Mei-san’s ecstatic, of course, until the next order comes down the pipeline: all women of child-bearing age are to produce a child for the good of the country, effective immediately. She fucking hates it, but she loves her country more, so she asks Kisame if he’d do her the honour and he shrugs and says sure. They’ve had sex before and it was good so what if now it’s under orders?

(In the end, it’s a rotten way to find out she’s infertile.)

--

In retrospect, the runt’s probably spared for the same reasons. They can no longer afford to mindlessly kill their own, not with the rest of the world doing it for them. The Mizukage has Kisame interrogate him just long enough to beat the truth out of him: how had he done it?

“It was easy,” the boy had said, spitting blood. “I just convinced them all to kill each other.”

The kid’s got guts, if nothing else.

--

The Mizukage gifts him to Biwa Juuzo-san, after. To break, to eat, or to raise, it’s his call. Poor bastard.

--

The next time Kisame meets the kid, he’s been given the name Zabu, which, according to Juuzo’s hodgepodge kanji, appears to mean Failure. Despite the moniker, however, Juuzo seems to like the kid. Perhaps a bit too much, Kisame thinks, but he keeps that to himself.

“Well, if it’s isn’t Mr. Waterbottle,” the runt says, flashing a mouthful of teeth. “I never caught your name, big guy.”

“Hoshigaki Kisame,” he says. “Good to see you well, Zabu-san.”

“Hah! San!” The kid barks out a pleased laugh. “I like the sound of that!”

Juuzo promptly backhands him to the ground. “Mind your manners, boy! He’s Fuguki’s tool, a weapon of the Seven Swordsman.”

The kid spits blood like it’s a well practiced motion. “Just like I’m yours, huh?”

“He’s not housebroken yet,” Juuzo apologizes. “Orphans. You know how they are.”

Housebroken or not, Zabu’s a well honed weapon. He keeps up with them without complaint, and kills on command with no hesitation. At night, he retreats into Juuzo’s tent like a kunai would to a holster, sharp end first.

--

Being as they are both subordinates to two of the infamous seven Swordmen of the Mist, they see a fair amount of each other over the next couple of years. Zabu stretches out like ninja wire, thin and sharp and nigh unbreakable. His eyes gets sharper and crueler until all that’s left of that cocky-mouthed runt is his odd charisma, the very same that helped him convince a hundred little boys and girls to rip each other to pieces.

“Our country could be so much greater,” he says. “Don’t you think, Hoshigaki?”

Kisame eyes him carefully. To speak against the Mizukage is akin to suicide, and he himself has killed men for less. “What are you getting at?”

Zabu’s eyes glint oddly in the firelight. “The country of Wind is dry, infertile. The land of Earth, selfsame. But ours is rich with rivers and wetland. We eat each other for lack of food, when we could be feeding ourselves rice and barley.”

How the years have changed this street rat to a philosopher, Kisame does not know. But he finds it amusing, nonetheless.

“You wish to become a farmer, Zabu-san?”

The brat grins sharp and jagged. “Nah,” he says. “Tools don’t dream of anything.”

--

Then some fucking green-ass genin from the Leaf goes and kills six of the seven Swordsmen, rendering them an international laughingstock and blowing whatever prestige it was to wield those swords out of the water and into the frying pan, because now they’re a bleeding fish out at sea, and all the world’s a shark ready to devour them whole.

To make matters worse, Fuguki-san has the fucking indecency of surviving the ordeal long enough to betray them to the Leaf, so Kisame’s the very last to inherit his sword, and by that time, he’s already lost any such illusion about his country being in any way capable of becoming greater than absolute zero.

--

Zabu, now sole master of the massive Kubikiribōchō, officially adds a third kanji to his name that means He Who Beheads. Kisame wonders if it’s a petty way of forcing the whole world to address him with respect even if they don’t want to, because Zabuzan sounds pretty fucking close to Zabu-san to his ears. He doesn’t say anything about that, though.

And when ‘Zabuza-san’ brings back a street rat he picked up from some godforsaken village and declares it his own personal tool, Kisame doesn’t say anything about that, either. Privately he thinks Juuzo would be rolling in his grave, if he had any.

Mei then lets it slip that Zabuza is planning a coup, gathering followers and inspiring rebellion. Kisame is surprised by how unsurprised he is, and wholly unengaged. Years ago his first gut reaction would’ve been violence, a dog trained to defend his Mizukage even when his master was fucking insane, but now his heart’s not in it. He just doesn’t give a shit.

Kisame doesn’t stick around to watch the fallout. He strikes a line through his headband and fucks off.

Mei’s devastated, of course, but she loves her country more, and it’s only by the grace of Samehada that Kisame makes it out alive. He wonders, as he leaves her bleeding, what their child would have looked like.

It probably would have died in the womb, Kisame thinks, and thinks on it no more.

--

They meet again as missing nin, years later. Zabuza’s coup failed and he left the country; Kisame left the country and joined a coup. How fate plays tricks on fools, Kisame thinks.

“Zabu-san,” Kisame says politely. “Good to see you well.”

Zabuza grins. “You too, big guy.”

Zabuza’s still being accompanied by his street rat, who he creatively named White Snow. The kid’s smooth where Zabuza is sharp, polite where Zabuza is rude, and is, overall, disgustingly saccharine with the man. And they’re clearly more than just a weapon to Zabuza, but Mist has never raised a child that knew how to love before they knew how to kill.

“Me and Haku are mercenaries,” Zabuza says. “For now.” He explains that they’re traveling around, gathering funds and followers across the elemental countries, with the ultimate goal of killing the mad Mizukage once and for fucking all. “We’re gonna make Water Country great again,” he says, and Kisame is reminded of Mei, of her unwavering love of the country Kisame has lost all loyalty to, and then Zabuza goes and says, “will you join us, Mr. Waterbottle?”

He really is a charming piece of shit, Kisame thinks fondly.

He doesn’t join them, but he does pledge his funds to Zabuza’s cause. And if he takes what payment Akatsuki gives him and deviates them to his old comrade in search of a better world, then no one has to know.

--

He hears of Zabuza’s death from his partner Uchiha Itachi. Apparently Itachi’s little brother and his team blew a hole through Haku’s heart and Zabuza died of heartbreak. The irony is not lost on Kisame.

“I am sorry,” Itachi says.

“Nah,” Kisame says. “We weren’t close.” Later, he says, “he wanted to be a farmer, I think.”

#karaii fic #would their pairing name be #kisazabu #? #tagging also for #zabuhaku #kisamei #kisaita #there's no sex btw this is pretty gen #(all my drabbles seem to be gen lmao) #content warnings for implied child abuse tho

[havekiddoswilltravel]

Mother’s Day Reflections – A Guide to Finding Joy on Mother’s Day

Dearest imperfect mom: I see you and you Matter!

If sadness creeps into your heart on Mother’s Day, you’re not alone. I often say that my life has not turned out how I imagined. As a young child, I recall sitting at church at a very young age and offering to hold other people’s children. I’m the youngest of three and a natural nurturer. I would daydream about what my adult life would look like and it always included a house full of children. Then I got older and excelled in academics and all of a sudden, my identity was linked more and more to accomplishments and success. I graduated from high school at the age of 16 and started my career by the age of 20. By the time I met my now husband my family goals had been put on the back burner to my career aspirations. The week that we met, I had spent time looking at job openings abroad and was ready to give in to my travel bug tendencies by exploring a position out of the country. God had other plans. Plans that in retrospect, I’ve stubbornly fought. I can be hard headed.

As I reflect on these events of almost 19 years ago, I can clearly see how I’ve come full circle to my natural tendencies as a nurturer. My career dreams have shifted in order to do right by my marriage and family. Even though I’m on social media daily for the purpose of my blog, I have a love - hate relationship with everything it represents. Social media’s polished snap shots of life can cause one to feel inadequate and lonely, all while being surrounded the thousands of “friends.” It can at times amplify our feelings of inadequacy in parenting and marriage and make us feel not good enough or a failure due to the mistakes that we’ve made.  The positives of social media are that is has allowed me to meet, establish and maintain relationships with amazing women, that have kept me connected and grounded throughout this parenting journey. These women (some are mothers and others are not) have encouraged me to be transparent and vulnerable in order to continue to mentor and inspire others. Is life perfect? Heck no and that’s the truth that I want to focus on this Mother’s Day.

Parenting is hard work and I hope that this atypical Mother’s Day blog post will help you realize that no mother – child relationship is perfect. We all make mistakes. We all fall short. There are no perfect mothers, so if you have a difficult relationship with your mother or feel like you’re messing up your own kids; be encouraged. You’re not alone!

 As Mother’s Day approaches, I’ve asked my readers to share their hearts and answer the question: “Do you dread or look forward to Mother’s Day?” The answers  have confirmed that I’m not alone in my reflections on this day. That it’s possible to love and mourn something simultaneously. Mother’s Day is a day of celebration for many, but also a day of pain, loss, regret, sadness and hurt for some. I’m incredibly grateful for the vulnerability shown by my readers and their willingness to share their stories. I loved the ones of mothers who plan their own Mother’s Day down to every detail (me included) and enjoy every minute of being charge. 

May is Mental Health Awareness Month. It’s no secret that I’m married to a psychiatrist and other than travel blogging and homeschooling my kids, I also manage his private practice. Our lives are incredibly hectic, causing us to be intentional in our boundaries, expectations, self-care and communication. I’m a big proponent of therapy and mental health priorities. My husband and I actually went to marital therapy prior to getting married and it was one of the best things that we’ve done for our relationship. He often tells me that I’m an extremely complicated woman; that there are so many layers to me, sort of like an onion. I’m not sure that any woman wishes to be compared to an onion, but I’m inclined to agree with him. I’m driven, dedicated, hardworking, tough and independent on the outside, but extremely sensitive and a bleeding heart on the inside. I struggle with saying no and tend to over extend myself. As a result, I often find myself drained. I’m trying to do better. It’s why I take a break at noon twice per week and take a taekwondo class,  why I play music and dance around the house often in order to reduce stress and why I’m expressive of my need for help or a moment of silent.  

 If you’re a mother or an adult son or daughter struggling this Mother’s Day, I urge you to get help. You cannot be all things to all people, nor can you give from an empty vessel. Don’t believe the lie that counseling and therapy are not for you, or that being weak or hurt is not an option. Don’t continue to hide behind the façade and smile through the pain. Toxic relationships, the hurt that they cause and years of pent up pain, will leak into other areas of your life. I hate to be a joy kill this Mother’s Day, but I’m honestly tired of the pretenses and falsehood that surrounds us, not only on social media, but also in church pews, sports fields and gatherings with friends. Keep Mother’s Day simple this year. Take the first step on the road of breaking the cycle that keeps you stuck. Break the chains of pain, hurt, trauma, denial, failure, lies and shame and set yourself on the path to be the best daughter and mother that you were created to be. Shame and isolation will keep you thinking that you’re the only one struggling this Mother’s Day. That’s not true. My reader’s feedback and my husband’s clinical experience proves otherwise. You are not alone. Now, what are you going to do about it?

 Your stories and feedback confirm that mothering is complicated.

That being a mother, can be lonely.

That toxic mother – child relationships exist and cause a deep void for many on a holiday meant to celebrate something good.

That motherhood can leave us feeling like we can never measure up.

I’ve carefully read your words and reflected on your private joy, triumphs, failures, hurt and pain, and I see you; you matter, your story has a purpose. I pray that all children and mothers who read these words, are inspired to love someone well. Even if it’s not your own mother, wife, daughter or friend, please pause and consider how you can bring a smile to someone’s day on Mother’s Day.

 If you’re overjoyed on Mother’s Day – I celebrate with the readers who shared that they look forward to Mother’s Day each year. Several shared pictures of their children taken throughout the years on Mother’s Day, as they reflect on the passing of time and the beautiful memories made. I’m there with you. Mother’s Day is probably the one day when I’m actually in the pictures with my family. My husband makes a point to have me get in the pictures on this day, rather than always being behind the camera. I’m a paparazzi mami, I love documenting the chaos of raising four young children without a village. I’ve lived the last 14 years in a perpetual state of exhaustion, yet I treasure each picture from Mother’s Days gone by. If you’re a tired, overworked, bags under your eyes mother who’s holding back tears at how quickly time flies when you’re in the midst of hands-on parenting, I see you and you matter. You are good enough.

If you dread Mother’s Day – Several readers responded that they dreaded Mother’s Day or at least have at certain stages in their life. The reasons behind this dread varied and I will expand further on them later, but a common thread was family hurt, dreams lost and a history of trauma. I urge you to read this blog post by Negra Bohemian on the importance of giving yourself permission to be weak. There is such power in weakness and vulnerability. 

We live in a society that places value in perceived perfection and strength, to the point where people are faking just about everything. I’m so grateful for your willingness to be transparent and vulnerable. You’re not alone. I urge you to keep reading and be encouraged.

If you’re mourning on Mother’s Day – Mourning shows up in many different ways on Mother’s Day. It causes us to pause, take a deep breath and acknowledge that pain in our gut, as the memories surface. It shows up in the form of the husband unable to celebrate motherhood fully with his wife, due to the void left by the loss of his own mother. It’s in the pain felt by the mother unable to fully smile, as she clenches her teeth while reading her Mother’s Day cards and feeling the pain of missing her own mother or also the pain of remembering a lost child. If you’re mourning on Mother’s Day, give yourself permission to weep and cry. Mother’s Day doesn’t have to equal a “Stepford Wives” fake joy. It’s okay to not be okay. Mourning shows up in the form of the woman struggling with infertility who tries to avoid public spaces on Mother’s Day. I see you and you matter. It shows up in the one who’s dealing with the loss of a child on Mother’s Day. I see you and you matter. It’s in the young widow helping her own children attempt to make her breakfast while being reminded of all the lost dreams. I see you and you matter.

If you’re struggling and wish that you could skip Mother’s Day – When my husband was a resident, I dreaded going to church on Mother’s Day. I consider myself an independent woman, yet I experienced a sense of dread when I entered a public space alone on Mother’s Day. I’ve had to do it on many occasions due to my husband’s work schedule and living in a town without family. I’ve celebrated Mother’s Day alone while pregnant, with a baby and with several kids and it doesn’t get easier. What does that say about our culture, that women would rather stay home in their yoga pants alone on Mother’s Day rather then enter a place of worship?

Last Fall, I wrote a blog post: Life Lessons on my 40th Birthday. One of the lessons that I wrote about was: Don’t left fear be the emotion that takes precedence in your life. As I reflected on my emotional response to other’s perceived judgement of me, I recognized that it came from a place of fear. I no longer care what other people think and that’s the biggest gift that I can give myself on Mother’s Day and beyond.

If you’re struggling with fear and anxiety this Mother’s Day – I see you and you matter.

If you’re a single mother who’s tired on Mother’s Day – I see you and you matter.

If you’re a mother who hasn’t slept through the night in years – I see you and you matter.

If you’re an adult child struggling with how to honor your mother while balancing appropriate boundaries – I see you and you matter.

If you’re a mother who feels likes you’re not good enough or that you’re failing your kids – I see you and you matter.  

If you’re the mother of an ill child who’s not meeting milestones with their peers – you’re the real-life superheroes and I see you. You Matter. In fact, I celebrate each milestone with you, regardless of when they come.

If you’re the mother of a wayward teen, who’s a joy kill and sucking the life out of you – I see you and you matter.

If you’re the mother of adult children who don’t call nor visit – I see you and you matter. I urge you to use that love to bless one of the aforementioned mothers who are also struggling this Mother’s Day.

 Guess what? Mother’s Day is just another day. There I said it. It’s time for us to learn to manage expectations and stop seeking affirmation and validation exclusively from external sources. Don’t allow the tendency of turning your kids into an idol, rob you of joy this Mother’s Day. Your worth is not determined by how well dressed, well behaved or perfect your kids are. I urge you to choose to see the good and seek out the moments that bring you joy. For me, it’s going back to my dreams deferred and getting away from the grind of daily life. We started off doing day trips on Mother’s Day because my husband was a resident and often on call and thus attached to a pager. I hated that thing! I was tired of Mother’s Days spent at the hospital cafeteria and going to church alone with young children. My own mother lives in another state and holidays in general were always kind of lonely for me, in those early days of our marriage. I decided one Mother’s Day when my husband wasn’t on call, that all I wanted was a day with no cell phones, pagers nor distractions and the only way to get that was to travel somewhere with limited cell phone service. We ended up on a picnic on a beach in Newport, RI and that has become our family tradition. I have no expectations of gifts, perfectly cooked meals, nor the ability to sit through a brunch and actually eat my food while it’s still hot. It’s so freeing to choose to simplify this day and rather than focusing on failures, focus on my blessings. I call this intentional living. Every day I make a choice to choose joy. It’s not easy, but I urge you to look in the mirror and hold yourself accountable for your own actions. Extend yourself grace and get up every day with the intent to live your best life, today.

Click here to read an additional blog post on Intentional Parenting that I wrote last Mother’s Day!

Excerpt: 

Finding joy in this process of raising little humans, while simultaneously balancing marriage, work, travel and homeschooling can feel daunting at times. As a work from home and homeschooling mother of four active children, I constantly hear “you’ve got your hands full” while attempting to go about our daily existence. Recognizing that our life choices are outside the norm of adult life in the United States, I tend to smile, nod and keep it moving. Making a conscious decision to live intentionally requires not engaging in frivolous conversations, nor validating our family’s choices with complete strangers.

No, I’m not more patient than you, I’m not super woman and I actually wear makeup to hide the bags under my eyes from the 13 years of sleep deprivation. I’m simply a woman getting up daily “grateful for a new day with no mistakes in it, yet.” This Mother’s Day, let me challenge you to live an intentional, grace filled life and provide you some suggestions on how to go about doing so. Click here for more...

About Ruth: I’m a wife and mami of 4 active and globe-trotting kiddos. I’ve always loved a good adventure and truly believe that it’s possible to travel with kids. Join me, as I share our adventures and inspire you to get out of the house with your kiddos. Whether you’re planning a family vacation, a road trip or a trip of a lifetime to an exotic destination, I’ll share insights, trip reports and information that will inspire you. Check back often to stay up to date on things to do with kids at your next travel destination.

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