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batsovergotham · 3 days ago

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CHAPTER 3 PART 1

you called it “a one-time thing” and then did it again immediately

pairing - emperor!mark grayson x reader

summary - you were supposed to form an alliance. instead you slept with him three days in and now you have no idea what’s happening.

content notice: 18+ SMUT (fingering, blowjobs, cunnilingus, 69, voyeurism, biting (?), squirting, overstimulation, mean mark (not really he's just jealous), mentions of SA

a/n: thank you for all of your lovely asks and comments <3 also sorry for any mistakes its currently 3am for me

The ship doesn’t wake you.

He does.

Not by movement, or sound, but by presence. His breath, warm against your shoulder. The solid weight of his chest pressed to your back. His arm around your waist, his hand splayed low over your ribs. The way his legs tangle with yours, like he never planned to let go.

The soreness hits next. Between your thighs. In your hips. A low ache that pulses quietly as you stretch. But it’s not sharp. It doesn’t feel wrong. If anything, it anchors you. A reminder of what happened. What you gave. What he took, gently, reverently. What you shared.

You shift slightly under the blankets, and feel the other weight pressed against you.

Marky.

Still curled up at your chest, tucked into your side like he’s always belonged there. His little hand rests against your stomach, fingers still holding tight to his dinosaur toy. His hair is a dark halo around his head, his cheek pillowed against your skin.

He must’ve climbed into bed after you fell asleep.

You stare at him, heart softening with a strange kind of ache. Not pain. Not fear. Something quieter. A tenderness you don’t fully know what to do with. You’ve faced monsters. Fought warlords. Endured silence and ceremony. But this, this is new.

“You’re up,” Mark murmurs behind you, his voice still rough with sleep. His hand slides across your stomach, pulling you closer before he kisses your shoulder, slow and distracted.

You nod. “He came in after I fell asleep?”

“Yeah,” he says, eyes still closed. “Said he heard something. Thought you were hurt.”

You wince. “I didn’t mean to scare him.”

“You didn’t. He just…he cares. He calmed down once he saw you were okay.”

You glance down at the boy now nestled into you like a second heartbeat. “He came right to me.”

Mark hums. “He likes you.”

The warmth in your chest spreads. You let your hand rest lightly on Marky’s back. He stirs but doesn’t wake.

There’s silence for a beat.

Then, gently, you ask, “Why isn’t he with Eve?”

Mark’s hand stills. You feel the change before he says anything.

“What do you mean?” he says, quiet.

“I mean—” You pause, trying to find the words. “You said Terra’s with Eve. I just assumed… she was his mother too.”

You don’t mean it as an accusation. You’re not trying to imply anything. It’s just strange. You’ve seen how carefully Marky is watched over. How protected he is. How loved. And yet he’s here, on a ship, in the middle of Empire affairs. Not on Earth. Not with her.

“I’m sorry,” you say quickly, sensing the tension that creeps into his body. “That might be a foolish assumption. I’m still learning how things work here.”

Mark’s quiet. For longer than feels comfortable.

Then he says, low and tight, “She’s not his mom.”

The air shifts.

You nod, staying still. “I didn’t know.”

“No one really does.” He doesn’t elaborate. “It’s not something I talk about.”

You don’t push. But his silence says enough. Not because of what he tells you but because of what he doesn’t.

You hear it in the change of his voice. The way he withdraws, not physically, not fully, but enough that you feel it. A part of him closing, like a door you weren’t meant to find.

“She has Terra,” he adds after a moment. “Our daughter. That’s her world now.”

“And yours is here,” you say softly.

He nods once.

You glance down at Marky again. “He’s lucky to have you.”

Mark doesn’t answer.

Not right away.

When he finally does, his voice is low. Quiet. Tired. “He’s… everything I have left.”

Your chest tightens.

You know grief. You’ve seen it in the faces of warriors too long in battle. In the silence of your father’s council when names are read. But this grief is different. It’s not a wound he wears with pride. It’s buried deep. Private. Raw.

“I didn’t mean to bring up anything painful,” you say gently.

“You didn’t,” he lies.

You don’t call him on it.

You just settle deeper into his arm, letting your fingers trace lazy circles along Marky’s back. You feel the boy breathe against you. Feel Mark’s hand flex slowly against your side.

“I don’t understand all of this yet,” you say after a while. “But I think I want to.”

Mark lets out a breath. Not quite a sigh. “It’s not simple.”

“Neither am I.”

You feel him shift again. His mouth brushes your shoulder. His voice is quieter now. “You’re not what I expected.”

“You either.”

His arm wraps more firmly around you, but you can still feel the tension in his body. The way he hasn’t relaxed all the way since the question. He’s here, but part of him is elsewhere, pulled back behind whatever wall you touched.

Still, he doesn’t leave.

He stays.

His thumb brushes against your ribs. His forehead presses to the back of your neck.

“You’re not a complication,” he says finally. “Just… something I didn’t see coming.”

You smile faintly, even if he can’t see it.

“Story of my life.”

He huffs a low laugh, and you feel some of the tightness ease.

You shift slightly under the covers and let your body press more fully into his. Marky’s still tucked into you, his breath steady, his little hand still clutched tight to his toy. You wonder what he dreams about. If he knows what it means to feel safe. To be wanted.

You close your eyes and let yourself stay still.

The room is quiet in the way few places ever are in your life. There are no marching orders, no war council, no ceremonial armor to bear. Just heat. Breath. The scent of Mark’s skin where it still clings to yours.

You lie in a loose tangle of limbs, Mark behind you, arm draped heavy across your waist. His hand rests just beneath your stomach, skin against skin. He hasn’t spoken since the last thread of your conversation faded. Not because there’s nothing to say. But because sometimes silence means more.

The sheet is pooled low around your neck. Your neck is covered in the evidence of his mouth, purple and red, bitten and claimed. You don’t feel ashamed. Not here. Not with him.

But you do flinch slightly when you feel the smaller body between you stir.

Marky shifts under the blanket, snuffling once before his head lifts slowly, eyes blinking up at you. His hair is a soft, tangled mess. He looks at you. Blinks again.

And then frowns.

“Why are you… bruised?” he asks, voice soft but concerned.

You pause, surprised. You follow his gaze, realizing how exposed your shoulder is, how visible the bruising must be in the gold morning light.

Marky pushes up on his elbow and leans closer, squinting at your skin. “Did someone hit you?”

Behind you, Mark stiffens slightly. Not enough to move. But enough that you feel the change.

Marky’s hand reaches out and brushes gently over your collarbone, just under the worst of the marks.

“Was it during the spar?” he asks. “Did she fall?”

“No,” you say gently. “It wasn’t from fighting. Your father—”

Mark’s voice cuts in, low and fast. “She landed hard.”

You blink, confused. “No, I wasn’t thrown. I was—”

Mark’s arm tightens slightly around you.

You glance over your shoulder.

He’s looking at you with a very specific kind of tension in his eyes. His brows are low, jaw tight, and there’s something urgent behind the look. Not anger. Not shame. Just… warning.

You hesitate. “…I was bruised, but not from falling.”

Marky frowns deeper. “So you were hurt?”

“I’m not hurt,” you say quickly, hand brushing his. “I’m just… sore. That’s all.”

Marky leans in again, inspecting you with that single-minded intensity only a child can manage. He reaches out like he means to soothe the bruise, to erase it with his fingers.

You catch his hand gently in yours.

“Thank you,” you say, voice soft. “But it doesn’t need healing. It’s not a wound.”

“You said he didn’t throw you,” Marky replies. “Then what happened?”

You glance at Mark again.

His expression hasn’t changed. Still steady. Still silent. But there’s a quiet fire behind his eyes. One that tells you plainly, don’t answer that question.

You look back at Marky.

“I’m still learning how people here talk about things like this,” you say slowly. “On Eternia, we don’t always hide… the signs of closeness.”

Marky blinks. “Closeness bruises you?”

“It can,” you murmur, blushing now. “Sometimes.”

He frowns, trying to make sense of it. “Did you hug too hard?”

Mark coughs. You elbow him.

“No,” you say. “Something… like that.”

Marky looks unsatisfied but eventually nods. “You need armor.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

A pause.

Then, without lifting his head, he says into your covered ribs. “Are you gonna live with us now?”

You freeze.

Marky curls against you again like the question isn’t a question at all, like it’s a natural conclusion. You’re here. You stayed. Of course, you’ll stay.

Behind you, Mark goes still.

Not stiff. Not angry. Just… arrested. Breath held between thoughts.

You glance toward him, but he doesn’t meet your eyes. He’s looking past you at the ceiling, unreadable.

You look down at Marky again, voice gentler. “That’s not really up to me.”

“Why not?”

“It’s… complicated.”

He furrows his brow. “Do you want to?”

You nod slowly. “I think I do.”

Mark doesn’t say anything.

But his arm pulls you just a little closer. His thumb strokes once along your side.

And Marky, satisfied, yawns into your chest like he’s already forgotten he asked.

You don’t know what to say after that.

So you don’t.

You just let yourself breathe. Bruised, half-covered, tangled up in something you’ve never been allowed to want.

The knock comes like a gentle reminder.

Three soft raps, then stillness.

Mark’s arm doesn’t move from around your waist. His breath stays slow against the back of your shoulder. You’re curled into the sheets, covered, still warm from the skin-to-skin quiet of morning. Marky’s tucked in front of you, blinking blearily awake again.

Mark taps the comm panel beside the bed. “Yeah?”

Ursaal’s voice filters through, clear and calm. “Good morning. I’ve come to assist Marky with bathing before his rotation.”

Marky groans, dramatic and immediate. “Noooo. She does the ear thing.”

You blink, confused. “The ear thing?”

“She scrubs them like she’s polishing a starcruiser.”

You hear a faint huff of amusement from the other side of the door. “If you held still, I wouldn’t have to chase you around your own head.”

“I like my ears dirty!” Marky argues, hiding his face in your side.

Mark rolls his eyes. “He’s just stalling.”

You sit up a little, gathering the blanket to your chest. Marky doesn’t move, he clings tighter.

“I could help him,” you offer gently, glancing at Mark. “If it’s alright.”

Mark’s brow furrows faintly, about to object. But Marky grabs your hand and beams.

“Yes. You won’t scrub like you’re trying to melt my skin off.”

“You're grimy after training, and you smell like a locker,” comes Ursaal’s voice through the panel. “I don’t work miracles, I use soap.”

Marky scrunches his nose and sticks out his tongue at the door. “Mean.”

“She’s not mean,” you murmur, amused. “She just cares.”

“Ursaal likes him,” Mark adds, settling back against the headboard. “She just doesn’t baby him.”

“She gives me lectures. While I’m naked.”

“She gives everyone lectures.”

You hear the door slide open with a soft hiss. Ursaal steps inside, tall and composed in her uniform. Her black hair hangs lose and her eyes sweep over the scene, Marky still pressed into your side, you half-draped in a sheet, Mark sprawled shirtless behind you.

Ursaal’s gaze flicks to the fading bruises on your shoulder. Then to Mark. She doesn’t comment.

Instead, she lifts a brow and deadpans, “Am I being replaced?”

Marky peeks at her. “Only a little.”

Ursaal steps forward, datapad in hand. “I’m wounded.”

He grins and shrinks into your side. “You pinch me when I squirm.”

“You squirm like a weasel in zero gravity.”

Marky giggles. “You like me.”

Ursaal kneels in front of him, reaching up to flick his ear gently. “More than you deserve.”

You watch them, heart softening. There’s no real tension. Just the quiet familiarity of people who’ve done this a hundred times.

“I don’t mind helping today,” you offer again. “If he wants.”

Ursaal glances at you, her expression unreadable at first. Then, a faint tilt of her mouth. “He clearly does.”

She stands smoothly. “Consider it a diplomatic delegation of responsibility. I’ll mark it in the schedule.”

“You don’t mind?” you ask.

She shakes her head. “No. He trusts you. That’s enough for me.”

Marky climbs into your lap like you’ve just signed a treaty. “She’s nicer than you,” he tells Ursaal proudly.

“She’s new,” Ursaal replies, eyes gleaming just slightly. “Give it time.”

Mark chuckles from the bed, shaking his head.

Ursaal turns to Mark, voice dry. “Should I return him to the command level when he’s clean, or wait for your next imperial whim?”

“I’ll get him after,” Mark replies. “He eats with me today.”

Ursaal nods. “I’ll be on the lower deck if you need me.”

She gives you a parting glance, something almost like approval, then exits with smooth efficiency, the door sliding closed behind her.

You look at Mark.

He’s already watching you.

“You sure?” he asks. “You don’t have to.”

“I want to,” you say simply.

Then Marky turns in your lap, hair still damp, and tugs at your hand again. “Can you do it now?” he asks. “The bath?”

You glance at Mark.

He doesn’t answer immediately, just looks between the two of you. He’s still shirtless, still sitting in the warm dent of the bed, watching with an expression you can’t fully read. But it isn’t disapproval. It’s something heavier. Something deeper.

Finally, he nods.

“Alright,” he says, low and even. “Go easy on her, though. She’s new to your drama.”

Marky beams and hops off the bed like he’s been granted a royal decree.

You gather the blanket tighter across your chest and slide out after him, feeling Mark’s eyes on you the entire way to the adjoining chamber. You don’t look back, but you feel it, that steady, quiet weight of him watching you with something like awe and caution all tangled together.

Helping Marky bathe is simple, if a little chaotic. He tries to dive beneath the water to avoid your hands, giggles uncontrollably when you wash behind his ears, and only barely sits still long enough to let you rinse his hair. But through it all, he stays close. Close in the way children cling to people they feel safe with. You don’t have to ask if he trusts you.

It’s written all over how he smiles at you like you’ve always been there.

Once he’s dry and dressed, white Viltrumite uniform straightened to the best of his ability, you retreat to the other side of the room and step into your own change of clothes. The white dress you brought from Eternia has been freshly washed and folded, soft cotton that slips over your skin like moonlight. The open back and gold stitching near the hem give it the faintest resemblance to your ceremonial armor, but lighter. Gentler.

You tighten the simple sash at your waist.

When you return, Marky is sitting on the bench, tugging at the seam at his wrists.

He looks up at you and blinks.

Then his mouth drops open.

“Whoa.”

You pause. “What?””

You sit beside him. He leans in and takes a deep sniff of your dress.

You blink. “Marky, what are you doing?”

“You smell like my dad,” he says bluntly.

Your heart jumps. “Do I?”

“Yeah,” he says, nose scrunched. “Not like soap. Just like him. Like when he hugs me after he trains.”

You look down at your lap, adjusting the fabric nervously.

Marky shrugs. “I think it’s because you slept in the same bed. He used to smell like that after Eve came over.”

You go still.

“Eve?” you ask gently.

“Yeah. She’s Terra’s mom. She used to come around more, before.”

“Before what?”

He shrugs again. “Before she stopped.”

You let him talk. His voice is quieter now, eyes on the floor.

“Sometimes she’d cry after. I saw. I didn’t say anything.”

Your chest tightens.

“She doesn’t call much anymore. Not when I’m with Dad,” he adds, like it’s just something that happens to everyone. “But Terra still says she misses him. She asks why he doesn’t visit more.”

You search his face. “And what do you say?”

“I tell her it’s ‘cause he’s busy. ‘Cause he’s got the Empire. And me.”

He leans into your side without asking, head bumping your shoulder gently.

“I lived with my mom before. Did you know that?”

“I didn’t,” you whisper.

“She didn’t talk much. But she always touched my hair. Said it was too soft for a Viltrumite.”

You stroke a hand gently through it now. “It is soft.”

“She died,” he says. Just that. Plain. Bare. “And then Dad came.”

You don’t press him for more. But he keeps going.

“He was scared when he got me. Even though he pretended not to be. But I could tell.”

You glance down at him. “How?”

“He wouldn’t sleep unless I was in the room. He kept checking on me at night. Like I’d disappear.”

Your throat aches. But you nod. “Sounds like he was trying.”

“He was,” Marky says. “He’s good. Just tired.”

You let the silence sit between you for a while.

“You make him better,” Marky murmurs.

You blink. “What?”

He doesn’t look at you. Just swings his feet. “He’s still quiet when you’re around. But it’s not the kind that hurts.”

You say nothing.

But your hand finds his, small and warm and real.

And you hold on.

Your hand tightens slightly around his.

You blink, slow, trying to keep the warmth behind your eyes from falling. The way he says it, like it’s just a fact. Like he’s seen it. Like he knows more than any eight-year-old should.

You don’t say anything.

But you pull him closer.

And he lets you.

The moment holds like that until the door slides open again.

You both turn at the soft sound of boots, measured, unhurried.

Mark steps inside, now fully dressed in the white and red of his uniform. He doesn’t speak at first. He just stops when he sees the two of you, your white dress catching the morning light like silk, Marky pressed into your side, your hand wrapped around his small fingers.

You watch something flicker behind his eyes. Something faint but impossible to miss.

Then, steady and low, he asks, “You both ready for breakfast?”

Marky perks up. “Can we eat here?”

Mark raises a brow. “You want breakfast in her quarters?”

“Yeah. Just us. It’s quieter. And she smells like you now.”

Your face heats instantly. Mark’s expression doesn’t change, but his mouth tugs, barely.

He looks at you. “You okay with that?”

You nod, gently smoothing the folds of your dress across your lap. “I’d like that.”

Mark steps toward the wall panel and keys in a request. “It’ll be brought up.”

Marky grins and throws his arms around your waist like you just saved the world.

Mark mutters, “We’re going to have to figure out where he picked up this clinginess.”

You glance at him. “I think he was born with it.”

“You might be right.”

A soft chime sounds as the first floating tray glides through the open chamber door, sleek and circular, holding fresh-cut fruit, golden fried bread rounds, and a pitcher of something warm and spiced. Another follows with folded napkins and utensils, and a smaller plate clearly meant for Marky with miniature portions and soft starch rolls.

The three of you settle around the small low table, Marky immediately sliding next to you with all the insistence of someone who’s decided you’re staying and doesn’t plan to negotiate it.

Mark sits across from you both, back against the wall, one arm slung casually over his knee. He doesn’t touch his food at first. He just watches. Quiet. Steady.

Marky grabs a roll and shoves half of it into his mouth, cheeks puffed. “You’re not allowed to be sad during breakfast,” he mumbles at you.

You blink. “I’m not sad.”

He swallows. “You look like you’re thinking about leaving.”

You glance down, brushing crumbs from your lap. “It’s not that simple.”

“Your brother’s transmission is scheduled to begin shortly after the meal,” Mark says, his voice low and even. “He’ll be speaking to the full council. Me. And you.”

You nod. Calm. Certain.

“I know.”

Mark studies you for a long moment. “He’ll ask for your assessment of us. Publicly. You sure you’re ready for that?”

You set your cup down gently, the ceramic barely making a sound.

“I was raised for it.”

It isn’t pride. It’s not bluster. It’s just the truth. Your tone carries the same steadiness you’ve used in battle. But this time, it’s not about leading an army, it’s about speaking plainly. About what you’ve seen.

Mark leans back slightly. “You already know what you’ll say.”

“I do,” you say softly.

He tilts his head. “Even if it makes them question you?”

You smile faintly. “He’s my brother, Mark. He’s not a stranger. If I tell him I see something different here… he’ll believe me.”

Mark doesn’t respond at first. You can tell he wants to. There’s tension in the line of his jaw. Not disbelief. Not doubt in you. Just the weight of what your words might ripple into.

Marky tugs at your arm. “What are you going to say?”

You look down at him.

“That the Empire is not what it used to be. That its people are changing. And that it’s not weakness. It’s growth.”

Marky nods slowly. “Will Adam believe that?”

You smile at him. “He knows me. He’ll hear it.”

Mark is silent again, but his eyes are locked on you.

Whatever words he had planned to offer, warnings, caveats, hesitations, die on his tongue. You’ve already made up your mind.

And that, more than anything, seems to settle something in him.

Marky slumps a little, clearly disappointed. “I want to come with you.”

“You can’t,” Mark says gently. “It’s not that kind of meeting.”

Marky looks up. “But I’ll see her after?”

Mark meets his gaze. “You will.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

Marky sighs, turning back to you. He leans into your side again, letting you tuck your arm around his small frame.

“I still think you should just tell them you’re staying forever,” he mutters. “Then nobody has to ask anything.”

You brush his hair gently off his forehead. “Maybe I will.”

Mark picks up a slice of bread but doesn’t eat it, fingers absently toying with the crust. “You don’t have to defend us.”

“I’m not,” you say, without hesitation. “I’m just going to speak the truth.”

Mark finally looks at you again.

And this time, the edge behind his gaze fades. It softens into something quieter.

Something close to trust.

Marky yawns, his head dropping onto your lap. “I’m full,” he says sleepily. “But if they try to take you, I’ll fight them.”

You smile down at him. “You’ll need better armor first.”

Mark clears his throat like he’s trying not to laugh. “I’ll see if we’ve got a child-size chest plate lying around.”

Marky hums in approval, already half-dozing.

Mark rises from the table, stretching slightly, then leans in over your shoulder.

“They’ll be calling soon,” he murmurs near your ear. “But… take a minute. You’ve earned it.”

You nod once.

You stay seated on the bench, Marky’s head in your lap, your white dress glowing in the morning light, and breathe.

Not in fear.

Not in doubt.

But with certainty.

You were raised for this.

And you’re finally using your voice for something you chose.

Breakfast is nearly finished, Marky drowsy in your lap, still smelling faintly of citrus and soap, your fingers tracing idle patterns through his hair as he blinks slower and slower.

You’re calm. Steady.

Mark has stepped aside, murmuring something into the console, his voice low and clipped. Coordination. Timing. He doesn’t look at you again, but he doesn’t have to. You can feel the tension in his back. The way he paces, slow, contained. Preparing.

The door opens without fanfare.

Ursaal steps inside, her silhouette sharp and silver in the frame.

She doesn’t say anything at first. Just takes in the scene.

Her eyes drift to Marky curled against your lap. Then to you, barefoot still, wrapped in white cotton, not armored but not soft either.

You meet her gaze without flinching.

“Time?” you ask simply.

She nods. “They’re assembling now.”

Marky stirs at her voice, frowning. “I’m coming with them.”

“No,” Ursaal says, voice even but not cold. “You’re coming with me. Your father asked.”

He groans and presses deeper into your lap. “But she’s nervous.”

You glance down at him, brushing a curl from his forehead. “I’m not.”

“You should be,” he mumbles. “Viltrumites are mean.”

Ursaal lifts a brow. “You say that like you’re not one.”

You stifle a laugh and tap his shoulder gently. “Come on, brave warrior. We’ll be together again soon.”

He looks up at you. Eyes wide. Wanting.

“Promise?”

You nod once. “I promise.”

He finally sits up and drags himself toward Ursaal with the kind of exaggerated suffering only a child can get away with. She doesn’t rush him. She waits. And when he’s close enough, she extends her hand.

He doesn’t take it.

He throws his arms around your neck instead and squeezes, quick, fierce.

You hold him back just as tightly.

Then he pulls away and walks with her to the door, his hand brushing against hers, not holding, but close.

Ursaal glances back at you as the doors slide shut.

And she nods.

Not a salute. Not protocol.

Just… acknowledgment.

The moment they’re gone, silence settles again.

You rise from the bench, breath slow, and cross to the wardrobe console embedded into the wall. The compartment opens at your scan, revealing the ceremonial outfit they prepared at your request, your formal attire from Eternia, approved by your planet’s council for diplomatic presentation.

You run your fingers across the soft golden and white fabric. The bodice is structured but unarmored, gold trim sweeping high across the chest. A crimson cape attaches at the shoulders, draping down the back like a banner. The skirt is pleated, short but stately, falling above the knee to allow for movement.

It’s what you wore in your trials. What you wore when you first spoke in your mother’s place before the Royal Houses. What you wore when they gave you your title.

You begin to dress.

You turn.

Mark hasn’t moved from where he’s been watching you.

His arms are crossed, his back against the wall, but his gaze hasn’t left you once. Not since Ursaal took Marky.

He exhales through his nose, slow. “You really look like someone they’d send to change things.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Good. That’s what I’m here for.”

He doesn’t smile. Just watches you for another beat.

“I keep thinking I should say something useful. Something you can take with you in there.”

You step toward him. “You don’t have to.”

He unfolds his arms and lets his hands fall to his sides. “Yeah, well. Still feels like I should.”

You pause a few feet away.

“I know what I’m going to say, Mark.”

“I know.” He runs a hand over the back of his neck. “I just didn’t think it’d feel like this.”

“Like what?”

He meets your eyes. “Like it matters what you say.”

You blink at him, caught off guard.

“Most people who come here,” he says, voice lower now, “they’re scared of us. Or they’re trying to manipulate us. You’re not doing either. And that makes this—” he gestures loosely between you, “way more complicated than I expected.”

He’s not angry. Just honest.

The quiet between you stretches.

Then he steps closer.

His hand comes up, slow, careful, and brushes a piece of hair back from your forehead. His knuckles trail along your cheek. Down to your jaw.

You don’t move.

His thumb rests there a moment longer. Then his eyes flick to yours.

“I don’t know what happens after this,” he says. “But I don’t want this to be the last thing we get.”

You barely have time to answer before he leans in.

The kiss is soft. Slower than the one from last night. Less hungry. More real.

He doesn’t press. He doesn’t pull you in like he’s claiming you. It’s just a moment. His lips on yours. His hand still at your jaw.

And then he pulls back, just a breath.

“I’ll be in the chamber,” he says quietly. “I’ll be watching.”

You nod.

He steps back, hand falling away. “You’ve got this.”

And with that, he turns and walks out.

No fanfare. No guards. Just the quiet hiss of the door behind him.

You stand alone again in your quarters. The cape shifts behind your legs as you breathe.

The kiss still lingers on your lips. Not because it was dramatic. But because it wasn’t.

Because it was honest.

And now, it’s time.

The door to the high council chamber slides open with a low hydraulic hiss.

You step through alone.

The air inside is colder than the rest of the ship, by design, you suspect. Viltrumite architecture favors symmetry, scale, and silence. Everything here is built to intimidate. The white stone flooring gleams beneath your boots, polished to a mirror shine. The walls curve upward into an arching dome lined with silver reliefs, depicting both conquest and reform in sharp-edged contrast.

The circular space holds no furniture aside from the central platform and the raised perimeter where the Viltrumite high council stands. They are already in position, six in total, towering, severe, clad in ceremonial silver uniforms. Their faces are expressionless. Their stances, rigid.

And at the highest point of the dais, seated on the Emperor’s throne, is Mark.

He’s already watching you.

He wears his formal uniform now, shoulders squared, red cape draped across one side, his arms resting on either side of the chair like the weight of the empire hasn’t moved since he last sat here. He doesn’t greet you, doesn’t nod, doesn’t smile. But you feel it in his stare.

The air shifts when you enter. The attention in the room folds in toward you. Even the silence adjusts.

You walk forward, each step deliberate, the crimson hem of your cape whispering over the tense air The gold trim of your dress catches the light. You reach the center of the room and come to a full stop beneath the main projection unit.

Then, just above you, the transmission light pulses to life.

A deep golden symbol appears first, Eternia’s crest. Silver twin swords crossed together.

Then, the screen flickers, and Adam’s face comes into view.

He’s seated upright, formal, the Eternian court visible in partial silhouette behind him, noble advisors, military commanders, and the elder representatives of your House. His golden cape hangs heavy over his left shoulder, the royal seal resting at his chest.

“Sister,” he says, voice calm, clear. “You’re on time.”

“I was taught to be,” you answer, tone crisp but warm.

You see it, the faintest trace of a smile, hidden behind his diplomatic stillness. But it’s there. He leans forward slightly.

“You’ve been aboard the Viltrumite flagship for nearly one cycle. You’ve lived among them. Observed their habits, their customs, their chain of command.”

“I have.”

“Have you had unrestricted access?”

“I’ve been allowed into all sectors,” you say. “I’ve interacted with soldiers, aides, even civilians under Viltrumite rule. I’ve seen the engine rooms and the military training floors. I’ve met their children.”

Marky’s face flashes in your mind for a brief second, laughing through shampoo, wriggling away from your hands. You keep your expression neutral.

Adam folds his hands. “You’ve observed the Emperor directly?”

You pause.

Then nod. “Closely.”

Adam’s face doesn’t move, but you know him. You see the subtle shift, the brief flicker of tension in his jaw. The same look he wore the day you volunteered for this mission.

“Eternia requires an assessment,” he says. “You know the stakes. You know the legacy of this Empire. Speak clearly. Speak truthfully. Do you believe the Viltrumite Empire still poses a threat to us?”

You lift your chin.

And speak.

“No.”

A hum of energy ripples across the projection, and the Viltrumite council straightens behind you, almost imperceptibly, but not entirely.

You continue. “They were a threat. For centuries. I was raised on stories of their cruelty. Their conquests. Their belief that might was destiny. That survival was supremacy.”

You pause.

“But that is not what I see now. Not here. Not anymore.”

Adam says nothing.

You press forward, voice unwavering. “I see reform. I see structure. A rebuilding effort, not just in systems or cities, but in philosophy. I see a people learning what it means to restrain power. To choose order over fear.”

You glance up. “And at the heart of it, Emperor Grayson, decendant of Argall. Who could’ve wielded his title like a weapon, and instead wields it like a promise.”

Finally, you allow your eyes to flick toward Mark.

He hasn’t moved.

But his eyes are on you, sharp and steady. There’s something in them now. Not surprise. Not relief. Just… heat. Focus. As if he’s watching the turning point of a war he didn’t know he was still fighting.

You turn back to the projection.

“This Empire is changing,” you say. “It is not perfect. But it is not blind. And for the first time in its history, it is listening.”

Adam leans back. “And you trust it?”

“I trust what I’ve seen. I trust the people I’ve met. I trust the man leading them. I wouldn’t be standing here if I didn’t.”

The chamber is silent.

Adam lets it settle. Then finally, he nods.

“That’s enough for me.”

Behind him, the court murmurs. A few lean in to whisper. One of the generals, a scarred woman from the outer moons, nods slowly. There’s no applause. No celebration. But the tone has shifted.

Adam’s voice softens, just slightly. “I’ll speak with the court privately. You’ll receive formal notice of our next steps within the day.”

You nod. “Understood.”

“Sister,” he says again, and this time it’s not formal. “You looked like a warrior when you left. You look like a leader now.”

You swallow once.

Then offer him the smallest, realest smile you can.

“I had help.”

The transmission flickers once.

Then fades.

The council remains silent. The screen fades to black.

And the room breathes again.

You don’t turn.

You wait.

Footsteps sound behind you, measured, deliberate. Mark descends from his platform. When he reaches you, he doesn’t speak right away. Just stops beside you, looking out into the echoing stillness of the chamber.

Then, voice low, controlled, “You were impressive.”

You glance sideways. “You’re surprised?”

“I’m not stupid,” he says. “I knew you could speak well. I just didn’t think you’d speak for us.”

You meet his eyes fully. “That’s because I don’t speak for empires, Mark.”

He tilts his head. “Then who was that for?”

You don’t flinch.

“For the ones who are trying to do better. Even when it hurts.”

Mark is quiet for a beat.

Then he nods.

No smile. No praise.

Just the subtle straightening of his spine.

And the way his voice drops just enough to let you hear what he really means.

“I’m glad it was you.”

Then a pause.

A beat.

And finally, he speaks the question he’s been holding since before breakfast.

“How much longer are you staying?”

The words are simple.

But his voice isn’t.

It’s careful. Intentional. Not too eager. Not too soft. But tight around the edges, like he’s trying to make the question sound less personal than it is.

You keep your eyes forward for a moment. Then finally turn toward him.

“I don’t know,” you admit. “Adam believes me. But the rest of the court will need more.”

Mark nods once. “Of course they will.”

“I’m not surprised,” you add gently. “Change makes people suspicious. Especially when it’s fast.”

“It hasn’t been fast for us,” Mark says. “We’ve been bleeding out for years.”

You look at him. “They don’t see that.”

He exhales. It’s not frustration. Not really. Just the sound of someone too used to carrying the burden of being misunderstood.

“How long will that take?” he asks, quieter now. “Convincing them?”

You shrug one shoulder. “A few cycles. Maybe more. They’ll want updates. Civilian reports. Maybe a second envoy. More structure. More evidence.”

Mark’s gaze sharpens slightly. “You think they’ll send someone else?”

“Eventually. But I’ll stay.”

That catches him. You see it.

He blinks, just once, but it’s the most off-guard he’s looked all morning.

“You’ll stay,” he repeats, like he’s trying to test the sound of it.

“I gave my word. This isn’t finished yet.”

His brow furrows faintly. “You gave it to them. Or to me?”

You pause.

Then, careful, “To myself.”

He nods once, slowly. Doesn’t push further.

You don’t tell him what you’re thinking. That staying feels less like duty now and more like gravity. That whatever this was, this morning, last night, Marky’s hand wrapped in yours, it cracked something open. And you’re not ready to close it again.

But you don’t say that.

Not here.

Mark doesn’t ask again.

Instead, he turns slightly toward the doors.

“You should change,” he says. “You’ve got a target on your back now.”

You raise an eyebrow. “From who?”

“From anyone who saw the way I looked at you while you were speaking.”

Your lips twitch. But you don’t look away.

“You weren’t exactly subtle.”

He glances at you. “Neither were you.”

Another beat of silence stretches between you.

And then, low, almost like it slips out.

“I don’t want you to leave,” he says. “But I’m trying not to make that your problem.”

You don’t answer.

But your hand brushes his.

Just for a moment.

He doesn’t say anything.

But his hand brushes yours again, barely a touch, and stays close.

You breathe in, starting to turn toward the exit, then you hear it.

Running. Light footsteps, fast and uneven, echoing from the corridor outside.

“There she is!”

You blink as the blur rounds the corner.

“Marky—”

He doesn’t slow down.

Before you can react, Marky launches himself into your side, arms locking around your waist, face burying into your midsection. You let out a breath of startled laughter, catching your balance just in time as your cape ripples from the impact.

“Gods,” you murmur, wrapping an arm around him. “Marky, what are you doing here?”

“I watched the whole thing!” he announces proudly, muffled against your side. “On the hall monitor! You were amazing! I knew you were gonna be amazing!”

Mark, still at your side, sighs. “He slipped away from Ursaal.”

“She’s fast,” Marky says. “But I’m determined.”

Ursaal appears a beat later, expression unreadable but breath controlled, her version of clearly trying not to look frustrated. She stops a few paces behind Marky and crosses her arms.

“I told him to wait until the all-clear.”

“I did wait,” Marky says defensively. “The screen said transmission complete.”

Mark glances at you. “He’s not wrong.”

You stroke Marky’s hair, heart still catching up to how tightly he clings to you. “You shouldn’t be running through command halls, you know.”

“I wasn’t running,” he says solemnly. “I was walking with purpose.”

Mark coughs once into his fist, clearly biting back a laugh.

Marky pulls back just enough to look up at you. “You’re not leaving, right? That wasn’t what the big council talk was about?”

You kneel slightly so you can meet his eyes. “I’m not leaving.”

His shoulders sag with relief. “Good. ‘Cause I didn’t want you to. And I was already thinking of ways to sneak onto your horse.”

He says like it’s obvious. “I’d hide under your cape. I’m small.”

Mark steps closer again, arms crossed, watching the scene unfold with that quiet unreadability he wears when he’s feeling too much to show.

“She’s not leaving,” Mark says. “She’s staying until Eternia’s satisfied. That might take a while.”

Marky beams. “That means we have time!”

“For what?” you ask.

“To draw our family picture!” he says like it’s the most obvious thing in the universe. “Me, you, and Dad.”

You blink. Mark tenses beside you like someone hit him with a tranquilizer dart.

“Marky,” he says sharply. “We’ve talked about—”

“She’s already part of it,” Marky says, turning to him. “You didn’t see your face when she was talking. You looked all serious but also like you were gonna explode.”

Mark makes a noise in his throat that might be a protest or might be a swallowed laugh.

You glance between them, suddenly very aware of the weight of Marky’s little hand in yours and the heat radiating off Mark just beside your shoulder.

“Come back to our quarters?” Marky asks, looking up at you again. “You can help me start the drawing. I already know what animal I want to put in.”

Mark lifts an eyebrow. “We don’t have any pets.”

“Well, we do now,” Marky declares.

You glance at Mark. “Is this your parenting style?”

He exhales through his nose. “Honestly, I’m just trying to keep up.”

Marky tugs your hand. “Come on. Before Ursaal catches her breath and makes me take a nap.”

You laugh and let him pull you toward the hallway.

Mark follows close, close enough you can hear his breath, feel the shift of his cape when it brushes your own.

And before you turn the next corner, you hear Marky say loudly, “Terra asked if you were my stepmom now.”

You freeze.

Mark, walking just behind you, stumbles slightly.

“Marky—” he says, voice tight.

“What?” Marky shrugs. “I said no. But I thought about saying yes. You smell like Dad and you’re nice.”

You glance back at Mark, wide-eyed.

He looks like he’s experiencing a full systems crash in real time.

Marky’s already back to walking, humming under his breath.

Mark’s voice is a little hoarse when he mutters, “That came out of nowhere.”

You swallow your laughter. “Did it?”

He looks at you for a long second. “...Maybe not.”

And the three of you walk on.

The walk back to Mark’s quarters is slow.

Not because of hesitation, but because Marky insists on holding your hand the whole way and stopping every ten feet to point something out. A corridor he “definitely saw a ghost in once,” a mess hall that makes the “squishy toast,” a section of hull he’s certain used to smell like bananas until Ursaal made him and Terra clean it.

You let him talk.

Mark walks on your other side, quiet. Not withdrawn. Just… aware. His presence is steady, a few inches behind you, hands at his back, his gaze lingering more often than it used to. You can feel the way he’s watching, not possessive, not guarded. Just there. Like he’s trying to take a mental inventory of what it means to have you in his world. And what it might mean to lose that.

The quarters open with a soft hiss, and Marky launches himself through the doorway with the full confidence of someone who’s never once been told to take his shoes off.

The space is warmly lit, the overheads dimmed, sunlight simulated through the far window. You don’t even think before stepping inside now. Your heels click softly against the floor. Your cape trails a whisper behind you.

Marky is already on the floor near the low table, rifling through his art tablets with the intensity of a tiny general. “I need the one with the good brushes. Not the laggy ones. Dad, where’s the stylus that doesn’t hate me?”

Mark raises both brows. “You lost it in the ventilation shaft last week.”

“Oh. Right.” Marky shrugs and grabs another.

You kneel down beside him, still dressed in your formal whites and crimson cape, and tuck your legs beneath you.

“You really want to draw a picture?”

Marky nods, eyes wide and serious. “A real one. With all of us. I already know what everyone’s gonna look like.”

“Dad is the grumpy book,” Marky supplies immediately.

“The what?”

“You know,” he says, tapping his screen with a rough oval and what appears to be a squiggle with eyebrows. “Because you always look like you’re trying to read people but also hate what they’re saying.”

You glance up. “He’s got you nailed.”

Mark mutters something under his breath and rubs his temple.

Marky turns back to you. “You’re a sun sword.”

You blink. “The what?”

“Because you glow,” he says, very matter-of-fact. “And you always look like you’re about to win a fight, even when you’re just talking.”

You don’t know what to say to that. Your throat tightens a little. You brush your hand lightly through his hair and let the moment pass without trying to name it.

Marky continues sketching.

And for the first time since the transmission ended, your body begins to settle. The stiffness in your shoulders eases. The low thrum of tension that had been riding your ribs begins to fade. Not because the pressure is gone, but because you’re not facing it alone.

From the chair, Mark watches you in silence.

Not with intensity. Not with need.

Just presence.

Like he knows this is something rare. Maybe even dangerous. But he’s not going to look away.

You sit like that for a while, Marky drawing half-lion, half-cape creatures and narrating their strengths (“Dad’s power is scary. Yours is glowing”). You listen. Mark doesn’t interrupt.

Then it happens.

The soft, pulsing chime.

You freeze.

It’s not loud. Not urgent. But it’s not the standard ship alert, either. Not a memo. Not a priority broadcast.

This is private.

Marky doesn’t look up. But Mark does.

You rise slowly, crossing the room to the console set into the wall. Your bootsteps echo just faintly now, muffled by the fabric of your cape.

The screen flashes blue.

Encrypted message. Origin: Eternia High Council. Designation: Monarch.

Your eyes narrow.

Adam.

You press your palm to the console and feel the familiar bio-scan respond to your signature. A soft click sounds as the private door to the adjoining chamber unlocks.

Mark speaks from behind you. “Your brother?”

You nod. “Encrypted transmission.”

Mark rises from the chair. “You want space?”

You hesitate. “Yes.”

He doesn’t argue.

Just steps aside, hands loose at his sides.

Marky glances up at you, mid-doodle. “Are you gonna talk about empire stuff again?”

“Something like that,” you say softly. “I’ll be right back.”

Mark watches you disappear into the chamber.

The door slides shut behind you.

And then, it’s quiet.

Inside, the chamber is dim. Only the hum of the console remains. You stand in front of the screen, your ceremonial cape swaying behind your boots.

You take a breath.

Then press accept.

The screen flickers once.

Twice.

And then, Adam’s face appears.

But he doesn’t speak.

Not right away.

And whatever he’s about to say, you already know it won’t just be small talk.

Adam’s face is still on the screen.

But the silence that stretches between you carries weight.

You’ve known your brother your entire life. You’ve seen him before battle, before coronations, before funeral rites. You know when he’s hesitating.

You narrow your eyes. “What is it?”

Adam exhales through his nose. “It’s not from me.”

That doesn’t answer anything.

But it answers everything.

You square your shoulders. “Say it.”

He glances offscreen for a second, consulting someone, or something, just out of view. Then back to you.

“Father has been speaking with Aquatica.”

Your stomach knots.

“Their leader has extended a peace proposal,” Adam continues, voice level. “Trade, mineral access, security cooperation along the outer trench borders. It’s substantial.”

You nod slowly. “And the cost?”

Adam looks at you straight.

“You.”

Your blood goes cold.

He doesn’t flinch. “They want a royal tie to seal the alliance. Aquatica’s candidate is Mer-man.”

You blink, stunned. “Mer-man?”

He nods once.

“The emissaries are framing it as symbolic. You’d keep your title. You’d maintain diplomatic autonomy.”

“While being handed off like a keepsake?” Your voice is sharp now, hard. “I’m not some relic they can trade between thrones.”

Adam doesn’t flinch, but you see it, the shadow of regret tightening around his mouth.

“This wasn’t my idea,” he says.

“I know,” you answer tightly. “You wouldn’t have waited until after the council to bring it up if it was.”

He exhales. Not defensive, just tired. “Father has been pushing it for weeks. I thought I could stall. I have been stalling.”

“Then keep stalling.”

“I can’t anymore,” he says. “It’s escalated. Aquatica has grown more aggressive. There are resource lines at risk. Tensions at the coastal gates. He sees it as the cleanest solution.”

You cross your arms, jaw tight. “He sees me as the cleanest solution.”

Adam flinches. “He still sees you as a princess first.”

“Then maybe it’s time he remembered what I actually am.”

His tone dips. “And what’s that?”

“A warrior,” you snap. “Not a token to be chained to a fish-faced tyrant for the sake of a tide map.”

Adam blinks. “You don’t have to insult the man.”

“Oh, I absolutely do,” you bite back. “You’ve met him. His idea of diplomacy is yelling until someone drowns.”

Adam sighs. “He’s not... that bad.”

“He smells of kelp and failure.”

There’s a beat of silence, just long enough for Adam to realize you’re not joking.

“You know I’d never let this go through,” he says finally. “You’re not some pawn.”

“But I’m still being played,” you say. “Because father is still in your ear. He doesn’t wear the crown anymore, Adam. You do.”

Adam’s eyes narrow. “You think I don’t know that?”

“I think you’re forgetting it. Or you’re letting him forget it.”

There’s tension in the air now, not anger, but something deeper. Familial. Old. The kind of friction that’s lived beneath the surface of your bond for years. You’ve fought for the same ideals, but never in the same ways.

He shakes his head slowly. “I called to warn you. Not argue with you.”

You step forward, voice steady now. Cooler. “Then hear me clearly. I will not marry him. Not for peace. Not for politics. Not for tradition. I don’t care if Randor himself comes swimming to the ship and begs me on his royal knees.”

Adam just looks at you.

“You’re certain?” he says quietly.

“I’d rather marry a plasma leak,” you mutter. “At least it wouldn’t talk back.”

Adam’s expression breaks just slightly, something like a laugh he’s trying to hide. “You’ve changed.”

You tilt your head. “Have I?”

He studies you for a long moment.

“No,” he says. “You’ve just finally stopped pretending.”

Behind you, near the sealed door, you hear it again. The sound of someone shifting just beyond the threshold.

Mark.

He’s still there. He’s been there the whole time.

And now, he definitely knows.

Adam’s gaze sharpens slightly.

“He’s listening, isn’t he?”

You don’t confirm. You don’t need to.

“I trust you,” Adam says, after a beat. “And I trust your judgment. But understand, this isn’t over yet. Father’s pushing. Aquatica is watching. And there’s going to be pressure.”

You nod once. “Let them push.”

“This won’t just be politics anymore,” he says. “It’ll get personal.”

You lift your chin. “It already is.”

Adam doesn’t respond.

But he doesn’t disconnect, either.

Adam is quiet for a moment.

Longer than before.

The flickering projection casts a faint shimmer across his jaw, catching the tension there. You know this silence. You know it means he’s about to say something he thinks you won’t want to hear.

“Say it,” you tell him.

He breathes in through his nose. “There’s… an option. One that would make Aquatica back down. Fast.”

You fold your arms. “I’m not marrying the fish.”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” he replies quickly. “Just…listen.”

You don’t interrupt.

Adam lifts his chin, voice cautious. “They’re not only pushing because they want you. They’re pushing because you’re unclaimed. Politically. You’re floating. No ties. No formal alliances. That makes you a liability.”

You feel your jaw twitch.

He continues. “But… if there were a bond already in place, recognized, declared, especially with someone of greater power…”

He doesn’t finish it.

He doesn’t have to.

You stare at him.

He looks straight back.

“It wouldn’t have to be marriage,” he says, voice low. “Even just a formal alignment. A public declaration. A diplomatic vow. Something that signals exclusivity. Permanence.”

Your mouth goes dry.

He presses on. “If the Empire acknowledged you as a consort, or even as a named diplomatic partner, Aquatica would lose leverage. They don’t want a fight with the Viltrumites, not now, not ever.”

You shake your head slowly. “You’re saying I should claim Mark like he’s some kind of shield.”

“I’m saying…” He exhales, then meets your eyes again. “I know you’re involved with him.”

You freeze.

His expression is careful. Measured. Not judgmental. Just… sad.

“You don’t talk about him like he’s just an emperor,” Adam says. “You don’t look like someone who’s just observing. And he doesn’t look at you like you’re temporary.”

You say nothing.

He softens, a little. “I’m your brother. I’m not blind.”

Your chest tightens.

Adam lets the silence stretch before continuing. “If you don’t want to define it, that’s your choice. But if you do want to stay here, safely and without interference, then yes. Declaring something with him, even loosely, could end Aquatica’s interest immediately.”

Your hands curl slightly at your sides.

“I’m not using my personal life as a pawn,” you say, voice cool.

“I’m not asking you to,” Adam says. “But if what’s happening between you two is real… then maybe it’s not a pawn.”

You blink.

You look away, swallowing hard.

From behind the sealed door, you feel him again.

Mark.

Still there.

Still listening.

Still saying nothing.

You exhale. “You really think a single declaration would stop it?”

“Yes,” Adam says simply. “Because it wouldn’t just come from you. It would come from him. And the Empire backing you, publicly, would make it very clear that no one else has a claim.”

You stare at the screen.

Adam doesn’t press.

He just waits.

And the question hangs in the air like a blade suspended above your ribs.

‘Would you claim him?’

Because it won’t be a whisper anymore.

It won’t be a kiss in the dark or quiet footsteps back to your shared room.

It would be public.

And permanent.

The screen still flickers.

The call hasn’t ended.

But something inside you already has.

Shifted.

Split.

Ready to name itself.

Adam sees it in your face before you speak.

The static silence stretches between you, and he knows. Even from half a galaxy away.

His expression softens, the regent mask falling away just enough to show the brother beneath it.

“You’ve only been there two days,” he says gently.

You nod, once. The motion is small. Tight.

“I know,” you murmur.

He doesn’t press.

“I’ll hold them off,” Adam says. “As long as I can. But it won’t last forever.”

“I don’t need forever,” you say quietly. “I just need a little more time.”

He nods.

Then, simply. “Take it.”

The screen flickers once, and his image vanishes into the soft Eternian blue of a terminated signal.

You stare at the darkened panel for a moment longer, your hand still resting at its edge.

And then you feel it.

Not just presence.

A shift in the air. A stillness that pulls your spine straight.

You turn slowly.

Mark’s arms are loose at his sides, his shoulders still tense like they’ve been held in place too long. His eyes flick to yours and stay there.

You don’t move.

It’s quiet, too quiet, until a small, guilty voice carries from the far end of the quarters.

“Are you gonna marry the fish man?”

You blink.

Hard.

Mark doesn’t even turn his head. He closes his eyes for a second, just one, and lets out a breath that sounds a lot like of course he heard.

You step out of the private chamber, and now you see him.

Marky, curled up on the corner couch with his drawing tablet on his lap, half his head poking out from behind the pillow he’s been “definitely not eavesdropping” behind.

He blinks up at you, solemn. “He sounds scary.”

Your heart stutters. “He’s not— I’m not—”

Mark steps in fully now, and you catch the way he glances at Marky first. There’s no anger in his face. Just resignation. And something else. Something quieter. Protective.

He crouches beside the boy. “Hey. Didn’t we talk about not listening in on things that aren’t for you?”

Marky shrinks a little. “I didn’t mean to. I was just drawing the dragon head part. And then it got really quiet. And then really loud.”

You close your eyes for a second and press your fingers to your temple. “This isn’t how I wanted to talk about this.”

“Yeah, well,” Mark says without looking up, “this isn’t how I wanted to find out about it.”

That lands.

You look at him.

Really look.

He’s not angry. He’s just honest.

“I wasn’t hiding it,” you say.

“No,” he replies. “ But, when would you tell me?”

Marky looks between the two of you, big-eyed. “You’re not leaving, right?”

You kneel down next to the couch, across from Mark. “No,” you say. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Even if the fish guy sends sea monsters?”

Mark leans closer to his son and whispers, “If he sends sea monsters, I’ll punch them in the face.”

Marky considers this, then nods solemnly. “Okay.”

You smile, but it’s small. Tight. And when you glance at Mark again, the quiet between you turns heavier.

He stands.

You do too.

Marky is still preoccupied with adding teeth to a creature on his screen, mumbling to himself about “monster-punching rules,” and for a brief moment, you both watch him.

Then Mark says, low, just for you.

“Two days.”

You nod.

“It’s fast,” he says.

“Too fast?” you ask.

He doesn’t answer right away.

“No,” he murmurs. “Just… real.”

The word lands between you like something sharp and warm.

He runs a hand through his hair. “I didn’t think I’d be anyone’s reason again.”

You step closer. Not touching. Just there.

“I don’t want to be your liability,” you say. “Or your claim.”

Mark looks at you. Really looks at you. “You’re not.”

Then, quieter, “You’re just mine.”

The words come soft. Not possessive. Not performative.

Just true.

And for the first time all day, the weight in your chest starts to lift.

Marky glances up again, squinting. “Wait… are you guys together together?”

You both freeze.

Mark groans softly. “We’ll talk about it later.”

Marky sighs. “Okay, but if I have to draw a wedding dragon now I need to know.”

Marky hums to himself as he colors in the final edges of the drawing, tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth in concentration. The tablet hums softly in his lap, stylus moving in quick, confident strokes.

You and Mark sit on the low edge of the couch now, shoulders just barely brushing.

Mark doesn’t speak.

Neither do you.

You don’t need to.

The tension from earlier still lingers in the air, but it’s softened now. Loosened by the simplicity of watching a child do something that feels so ordinary. So safe.

Marky finally sits up straighter and announces, “Done!”

He spins the tablet around like he’s unveiling a masterful art-piece.

The image is crude but fierce. A sunburst-sword flanked by a book with very expressive eyebrows and a dragon with flames coming out of its nose.

“That’s me breathing fire because I have to protect you guys,” he explains matter-of-factly. “Because you’re always busy doing boring meetings.”

Mark huffs a quiet laugh beside you. “That’s... accurate.”

“And see?” Marky points. “That’s you two holding hands. I used the glow pen so it looks special.”

You blink.

Mark leans in to look closer. “Is that a cape on me?”

“Yeah,” Marky says. “Because you’re the emperor. And also because your shoulders look weird without it.”

Mark blinks. “Noted.”

You smile, looking at the sketch longer than you mean to. Your fingers brush the edge of the screen, careful not to smudge his work.

It’s messy. Bright. Unfiltered.

And it makes something ache behind your ribs.

✮♛ ♚✮⋆˙

taglist is OPEN. drop a comment in the replies if you wanna be tagged in future updates.

@saturnalya / @liliesclouds / @maki-ki / @isnt-itstrange / @camilo-uwu / @noxiousness-obnay / @ketsuekiakane / @nympheagain / @verysynical / @gvre / @cookiemonsterboss / @weirdstartshere / @wifeofmarkgrayson / @pixviee / @sugawoonie / @uselesstutor09 / @monaekelis / @tr3nzit444s / @mikevi / @the-good-kooshe / @moraxussy / @ladynoirx321 / @just-a-harmless-patato / @whenicaniwont / @faephoria / @teriyakiitae / @qxuanii / @nwestra / @xoyumiqls /

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tinylilacbun · 3 months ago

Text

d o c t o r a p p o i n t m e n t ⋆ 💉 ˚ ｡ ⋆

Rafe's holding you on his hip as he enters the building, walking straight to the receptionist, flashing the lady sitting there a quick smile. "We got an appointment, Y/N Cameron."

She types some things into her computer, looking up at Rafe with a kind smile, gesturing with her hand towards the waiting room. "Please, take a seat. The doctor will call you shortly."

He nods, making his way to the waiting area and sits down on one of the chairs, rubbing your back when you cling tighter onto him, hiding your face in your lovie.

Rafe knows you hate going to the doctor, the bright fluorescent lights, the scent, hearing infants or other children cry from the examination rooms, just everything.

You only nod in response, pressing your cheek against his chest again as you grip his shirt tightly, the soothing circles he draws on your back making you only partly forget where you are at the moment.

He looks down at you, seeing the small pout on your face as you gaze up at him with big eyes. "Hey, don't gimme that look. It'll be over before you know it. We can get some ice cream after, yeah?"

Soon enough and much to your dismay the door to one of the examination rooms opens, your doctor standing there with a clipboard in hand as she calls out your name, making you tense up on Rafe's lap.

He stands up from the chair, still having you tucked into his chest as walks past the doctor into the room, setting you down on the examination table and pressing a kiss to the crown of your head before taking a few steps back.

"Hello there, little one, how we feeling today?" Dr. Lavey asks, pulling on some gloves as she walks closer to you, taking the stethoscope from around her neck.

You glance at your father and he gives you a nod of encouragement. "Good..." You mumble out quietly.

"Still not used to me I see." She chuckles, starting with the usual check up, listening to your lungs and heart, looking over eyes, ears, throat, and noting down your height and weight as well.

Rafe is leaning against the wall, his arms crossed and keeping his eyes trained on you, knowing you tend to overwhelm quickly, but you're doing rather good today.

That's until the doctor prepares your shot, instantly sitting up on your knees and making grabby hands for him with a whine.

He moves over to you, placing his hands on your waist to help you stand up on the table, sighing when you quickly take hold of his shirt, burrowing your face in his chest as you let out a fearful whimper.

"Shh, shh." He soothes you, rubbing your back and preparing himself for the upcoming tears that will most definitely well up in your eyes soon.

Dr. Lavey comes closer with the needle in hand, holding a gloved one out to you. "Can you show me your arm, Sweetie?"

You only shake your head in response. Rafe rubs his hand down to your arm, gently grabbing your wrist to hold your arm out to the doctor. "You're alright, I'm right here, princess."

The doctor gives him a grateful smile before lifting the sleeve of your shirt a little and disinfecting your skin with an alcohol wipe, placing the needle against your skin, and slowly injecting you with contents in it.

You whimper again at feeling the shot, letting out a quiet sob against your father's shirt, burrowing your face even more into the fabric.

"There, I'm so proud of you." He praises you, continuing to rub your back as Dr. Lavey withdraws the needle from your skin and places a dinosaur bandaid on your arm.

"All done now." She smiles, disposing of the needle and her gloves, retrieving a lollipop from the jar on her desk.

You peel yourself away from Rafe a little, eyeing the candy and taking it from her outstretched hand but quickly hide back into your father's chest for safety.

"What do we say?" Rafe asks, tapping your back expectantly.

"Fank you..." You whisper and the doctor smiles at you.

"You're Welcome. You're good to go. I'll see you again in six months for another routine checkup, okay?" She tells Rafe, sitting down at her desk.

He simply nods, scooping you into his arms and kissing your forehead as he makes his way out of the room, walking to the receptionist to make a new appointment.

Soon you're strapped back in your car seat, struggling to open the wrapper of your lollipop, letting out a frustrated whine.

"Need some help?" Rafe chuckles, taking it from your hand and unwrapping it swiftly, handing it back to you and ruffles your hair as you pop the candy into your mouth.

#daughter!reader #dad!rafe drabble

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thecloudsaremyhome · 3 months ago

Note

*gently chanting* yandere doey, yandere doey, yandere doey

Ofc!

Platonic yandere Doey headcanons

Tw: possessive behavior, obsessive behavior, yandere themes, death, infantization.

・you met doey after you lucky escaped yarnby for the time being. You'd say you first meeting was strange, you accidently fell down on if the many rooms in playtime co. Which resulted in pioanosoures to se you, luckily doey unintentionally saved you from th large toy dinosaur by... Eating it?

・to say it was a strang encounter is for sure but th events after it was even stranger, doey was friendly enough as it is but something was off about him the way he looked at you was to intense to be normal but you brushed it off as him veingexcited to meet you.

・after you evtually arrived at safe Haven his behavior really started to show through he was more in edge since th thing called th prototype was near which resulted in him to keep a close possessive eye on you which startled you to say the least, but again you brushe it off, after you had a talk with poppy you decide to explore th safe Haven and talk to doey again which resulted in him reluctantly asking you to give an fetch the doctors hand, Which sounded difficult in it's own but the what was even more surprising is his willingness to go with you.

• so your adventure to steal the docotrs hand is set in motion and trust me it is anything but easy but luckily doey is their to protect fragile little you from all harm coming your way

• honestly you remind doey of the past children in the daycare that Mathew took care of which triggers his parental instincts in part of his personality to set in motion, he feels an intense need to protect you from all harm ever since he first met you a few hours ago, it’s not like you can actively defend yourself from the dangerous down here anyways

• as your search for the docotrs progresses the dangers do to, which scares you to say the least but luckily doey was able to protect you from yarnby. Which you are grateful for but his behavior is scary to say the least he’s treating you as if you are a child who cant take care of themselves which annoys you to say the least.

• finally after many trial and tribulations you reach the doctor and progressively fight against him finally your able to defeat him and take his arm.

•but when you finally return to safe haven you find the place In shambles, fire everywhere and all the previous toys dead, this leaves you heartbroken to say the least but what scares you even more is doey’s reaction. It’s frightening to say the least he’s very angry but makes no move to attack you instead he holds you close to him and puts a cloth in your mouth which results in you passing out.

• when you wake up it looks like your back into the safe haven but a more destroyed looking version of it with the doors double locked and by the looks of it no way out which scares you to say the least. When you finally spot doey sitting next to you with and obsessive look in his eyes you notice the clothes ypur wearing well a onesie to be exact with your hands chained to the mattress on the floor.

• this scares you to say the least not knowing what to do you start to cry out in fear which results in doey cooing at you as he strokes ypur hair affectionately murmuring sweet nothings into your ear, as you start to get exhausted you hear one last thing

“Good night sweet hear it’s okay you’ll be safe with me”

#yandere doey #yandere poppy playtime #yandere platonic #yandere #yandere platonic x reader #poppy playtime chapter 4

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dorabellingham · 6 months ago

Text

First day of school

warning: none

characters: jude x mom!reader x baby boy

summary: when it's your child's first day of school but you're very attached

request: yes

may contain spelling and translation errors!

It was a day of mixed emotions at the Bellingham house. Benjamin's first day of school had arrived, and you were ready to accompany the little boy to school in Madrid. Ben, only five years old, had a look of doubt and fear on his face. He understood a few words in spanish, since he had contact with the language on a daily basis, but his natural language was English, and this barrier only made him more apprehensive.

The morning began with careful preparation. You chose Benji's favorite backpack, with dinosaur characters, and Jude prepared a special snack with your son's favorite snacks. However, the expression on the little boy's face remained the same: he was not at all excited.

When you finally left the house, with the little boy holding the hand of each of his parents, Ben looked at you with a pleading look, as if trying to say without words: "Why are you doing this to me?". On the way, you and Jude exchanged encouraging glances, knowing you were making the right decision, but also feeling your hearts ache.

As soon as you arrived at the preschool, Jude got down to Benji's level and explained.

—Benji, you're going to make lots of little friends here. Mommy and daddy will be waiting for you at the end of the day, and I promise that if you're a brave boy, we'll go to the Bernabéu on Saturday. How about that?

He tried to sound as enthusiastic as possible, hoping that would cheer up the little boy, but he just looked at his father with those big, sad brown eyes, clutching his backpack tightly.

You also got down next to your husband and caressed your son's little face.

—It'll only be a few hours, my love. Mommy will be here before you know it. And look, you'll get to play and learn new things! Remember how you always ask about things? Here you'll get lots of answers.

You gave him an encouraging smile, but your little boy didn't seem convinced.

—I don't want to stay, mommy. I don't want to.

He repeated softly, while holding his parents' hands tightly.

The teacher, who was watching patiently, approached, smiling warmly.

—Hola, Ben! Mi nombre es Carlos. ¿Te gustan los dinosaurios?

He asked, pointing to the boy's backpack.

Benjamin looked at him suspiciously, but nodded slowly. He understood a little of what the teacher was saying, but he still felt lost.

—¡Genial! Tenemos juguetes de dinosaurios aquí adentro. ¿Quieres ver?

The teacher continued in spanish, trying to gain his trust.

You gave your son a gentle push to encourage him, but Benji was still hesitant. Jude, noticing his son's anguish, gave him an understanding smile.

—You'll do great, champ. Just a few hours, and then you can tell us everything you did, okay?

After a few more attempts at convincing, Benjamin slowly let go of your hand and followed the teacher with small, uncertain steps. You felt a lump in your throat as you watched your son enter the preschool for the first time without you or Jude around, while your husband lightly squeezed your shoulder in support. It was a big step, both for Benji and for you.

However, as you began to walk away from the entrance, you could hear Benji calling.

—Mommy! Daddy!

He had tears in his eyes, holding a toy dinosaur that the teacher had given him. Your heart broke when you heard your son’s call, and you looked at Bellingham with a look of despair.

Jude took a step towards the entrance, but then turned to you and spoke softly:

—We have to trust that he’ll be okay. It’s the first step, remember?

You nodded, your eyes full of tears, but took a deep breath and waved to your son, smiling and blowing kisses from afar. Benji looked at them, confused and sad, before being taken back by the teacher, who was distracting him with the toys.

——

At home, you tried to distract yourselves, but you both found yourselves looking at your cell phones, waiting for any updates from school. For you, every minute felt like an eternity.

—Babe, I can’t take it anymore...

You murmured sadly as you rested your chin on his shoulder.

—Can we pick you up earlier, sweetheart? —Jude said, his large hands caressing your back. —I feel like they took a part of me.

Bored, you walked around the house, tidying up your son's toys and checking to see if his room was in order, as if that would help you feel more connected. Jude, on the other hand, kept himself busy with training videos, but with each notification, he quickly checked his phone.

Finally, after hours that seemed like days, the phone rang, and the school informed him that Ben was fine, although he had cried a little at first, which was normal for the first day. He had gradually fit in with the other children and was starting to feel more comfortable. You looked at each other, both sighing in relief.

—He's my son, it would be very difficult not to become popular on the first day.

The man gave an almost correct wink, he was finally learning.

—It doesn't even seem like you were crying half an hour ago, Jude Victor.

You said, laughing softly, but the feeling of relief was so gratifying.

When they went to pick up Benji, he ran into your arms, and Jude immediately picked him up, hugging him tightly.

—How was it, champ?

Jude asked with a smile, while Benji snuggled into his father’s chest.

—It was… weird. —Benji replied, still confused, but he seemed less sad. —The kids spoke differently.

You stroked your son’s curly hair and smiled.

—But you’re learning to understand what they say in spanish, aren’t you, my love?

Ben nodded slowly, looking a little more confident.

—The teacher gave me a dinosaur.

Jude laughed and looked at you.

—See? You even got a new dinosaur! You know, we’re going to the Bernabéu this weekend, like I promised. How about it?

The mini copy of Jude smiled a small but genuine smile when he heard that. He loved the stadium and the idea of going there with his father always excited him. You crouched down next to Jude and looked into your son’s eyes.

—We’re so proud of you, Benji. You were so brave today.

You kissed his forehead, and he smiled back, finally relaxing.

As you walked to the car, Ben held his parents’ hands tightly, and you and Jude exchanged knowing, happy looks. You knew there would still be challenges, but that first day was the beginning of a new phase for your family.

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goddamnitmahtin · 3 months ago

Text

Jason is a Teenage Dad Part 4

Jason woke up, feeling a pull in his chest. Danny wasn’t okay. He immediately got out of bed and headed towards the door connecting Danny’s room with his own. He made sure not turn on the light as unlike most children, light scared Danny more than the dark did. There was no screaming… Danny never really did that. No matter how bad it was.

Jason swooped in, making sure he was close enough that Danny could sense he was there. Touching him unexpectedly only ever made it worse.

He looked at his boy. His little star. He was trembling from fear, curled into a ball, his eyes wide and glowing green. He was silent. Jason had seen this enough times now to know that Danny wasn’t present. He was remembering whatever had happened to him. And just like he always did, he did not scream or thrash. He took it silently. Hoping no one would hear.

All Jason could do was wait. He knew that trying to get Danny’s attention spooked him and often made him have an outburst where he would go invisible or intangible. One time he had accidentally phased through the floor and had gotten stuck on the head of the dinosaur in the Batcave. Jason had a hard time getting him down.

So, Jason did not reach out physically with his hand or make any attempt to approach more than necessary. He simply sat on the floor of the room and held his chest as he tried to reach out to his son silently. Jason didn’t know what it was. But there was something inside his chest that understood Danny and could communicate with him that way. He didn’t really care what it was, all he cared about was helping his son. So he hoped that Danny could feel that he was there for him.

Jason watched as Danny’s eyes went from a glowing yet glossed over green full of fear to a searching glow as Danny scanned the room for Jason, feeling his presence.

“Daddy…” Danny began to cry. It was at that moment Jason knew it was okay to scoop up his son and hold him close. He knew that Danny sought comfort in physical contact, he loved being held and cradled. Jason just had to wait until he called for him. Because despite physical touch seeming to be Danny’s way of calming himself, he knew that Danny had trauma around being restrained and attempting to offer that kind of comfort before he was ready would only scare him more.

Jason held Danny, rubbing his back softly, “It’s okay Danny… I’m here. We are in your room at Grand-B’s house.” He made sure to tell Danny where they were since he was often a little confused after flashbacks.

“Grand-B…. where is Sam and Tucker?” Danny asked. This wasn’t the first time he had asked for Sam and Tucker. The first time Danny had asked about it, Jason had assumed that they were with him in whatever bad situation Danny had been in. He had asked more about them after that worried there were more victims of… whatever Danny had gone through. But when asked about it, Danny said that they had “gotten away.” Which meant that they weren’t in the situation with him. Jason still worried about it but Danny had been fast to close himself off at the questions.

“I don’t know bud. They aren’t here,” Jason replied softly. He had at one point wondered if Sam and Tucker were names of ghosts Danny might have been seeing but whenever Danny saw something, Jason could typically at least feel a presence in the room as well and he had never addressed any of the ghosts as Sam or Tucker. There was also the mysterious Jazz that he would ask about sometimes. Although he was even quicker to shut down when asked about them.

Danny nodded sadly at that, “Okay…” Jason felt as Danny snuggled his face into his shoulder. He also felt as the feeling in his chest told him that Danny was starting to feel a little bit better. He was more aware again. He watched as the glow from Danny’s eyes slowly faded and then the green went back to blue.

Jason noticed that Danny’s eyes tended to turn green when he felt a strong emotion like fear or excitement. Jason had learned recently that his eyes did the same under similar circumstances. Jason could control it sometimes if he wanted to. He often let his eyes glow like Danny’s if they were playing or bonding. When the two of them were just spending time together, letting his eyes glow helped Danny feel comfortable enough to be more himself, use his powers and all that.

Danny had powers. Jason knew that. They were hard to miss. Danny could go invisible and intangible if he really focused on it. Sometimes Danny’s hair would go white and his teeth would go sharp if he got spooked by something. Jason wondered if it was a defense mechanism of sorts since when he was in that other form Danny’s powers seemed to be easier for him to access.

Jason didn’t seem to have any powers. Not that he could tell anyways. But he couldn’t ignore the things that made him and Danny feel… the same almost. From the day they two of them met, they knew that they were “other” and that they were both the same kind. They were both connected to the Lazarus in some way. It had changed them.

Just like Danny’s hair sometimes went white, Jason now had a white streak he couldn’t get rid of. Just like Danny’s eyes, Jason’s glowed green when he wanted them to. Just like Danny’s noticeable strength for a 3 year old, Jason had noticed that things felt much lighter than they used to. He had accidentally lifted B right off his feet once. But most of all, there was the feeling in Jason’s chest. The one he knew Danny also had.

That feeling was currently letting Jason know that whatever flashback had woken Danny up was bad enough that he wasn’t going to be able to go back to bed. That was okay. He didn’t expect Danny to be fine immediately after whatever he just saw.

“You want to come to the kitchen with Daddy? I’m making some hot chocolate,” Jason said.

Danny’s eyes glowed green with excitement, “Chocolate!”

Jason smiled, holding his son and he got off the floor and carried him to the kitchen. Danny was okay. They were going to be okay.

Or so Jason fucking thought.

Not two seconds after they entered the kitchen, Jason heard the bang of the front door being kicked open. The manor was huge but it was also old as fuck so the walls were thin.

Jason snapped his eyes to where the sound came from, telling Danny to get behind him. He saw that Danny had been spooked enough to transform, his feet floating above the floor slightly.

Jason hit the hidden button under the counter to wake up the members of the house, alarms were no doubt going off in every bedroom. He could hear the footsteps of at least 2, Jason was betting on 3, people rushing into the house. Unfortunately for Jason and Danny, the kitchen was on the first floor and fairly close to the front door. He had to make sure that he kept Danny away from whoever was entering as long as possible… Danny?

Shit. Danny flew off.

Fuck!

Jason ran towards the footsteps, down the hall, assuming the worst.

“Danny!” he heard a woman say.

“JAZZY!” he heard Danny yell excitedly.

Jason turned the corner to see Danny hugging a woman with long red hair. Behind her were two teens smiling.

“Danny, you can’t just fly off…” Jason started. But he didn’t finish the sentence. He could feel it. These people weren’t going to hurt him. Danny loved these people. And he had called the oldest one Jazzy. Which led Jason to assume that the other two were Sam and Tucker.

“Daddy! Look! Sam and Tucker and Jazz!” Danny was flying around the three people excitedly.

“I see that bud,” Jason said, “Why don’t you go ask Alfred to make some tea for everybody Danny? We can meet you in the first floor living space.”

Danny looked nervous. He had been getting better about going to do small things without Jason like fetching Alfred or grabbing something from the kitchen. He still got a little nervous when he did it sometimes but Danny liked trying to be brave.

“Don’t leave,” Danny said, pointing to the trio before going to get Alfred. Jason sighed and led them to the first floor living space.

Just then, Bruce rushed in looking like he was ready to fight a god. Just behind him was Tim who was clinging more to the shadows.

“B, Tim, false alarm. These are Danny’s friends,” Jason said as B and Tim fully joined them in the room.

“Sam? Like Manson family Sam?” Tim asked, pointing to the goth teen girl with purple eyes, “I know you. From galas. You’re the heir to the Manson family in Amity Park. Which there might not be much left when you inherit it with your parents’ spending habits.” Tim stopped, realizing he had started to monologue.

Sam smiled a bit, seeming to recognize Tim as well, “Oh my Ancients! Tim Drake! I was so worried after I heard about your parents. I wasn’t sure where you had been placed. Child services aren’t very smart. Is this where you are staying now?”

Jason assumed Tim nodded in response but he was more interested in Danny who he felt returning to the room with Alfred. “I brought Alfred! And snacks!” the happy toddler said with pride.

“Good job buddy! I’m proud of you,” Jason said as Danny crawled onto his lap and handed him a strawberry tart, “Thank you Danny.”

Now it was Bruce who spoke up, “Who exactly are you people to Danny?”

The red headed one, Jazz, responded with just as much suspicion, “I’m Danny’s sister. Why do you have him? And why is he a 3 year old?”

Jason’s eyes widened at that, ��You mean, he wasn’t this age when you knew him?”

The boy in the red hat, carrying a PDA responded, “Well before Danny disappeared from Amity Park, he was 15. Like me and Sam. We were best friends.”

Danny pouted, running over to Tucker, giving him a hug, “We are still best friends. I am just small.”

Tucker looked at Danny sadly, “I can see that Danny.”

Tim spoke up, his mouth going faster than his brain like it did sometimes, “If Danny was 15 before he disappeared and was three when Jason found him, whatever messed with his age must have been in the time between when Danny was… somewhere.” The boy stopped talking again abruptly.

Jason knew Tim had theories but now was not the time. Which was why he had shot him a look stop before he said something that might set Danny off. Whatever was going on with Danny was something that they were going to to have to discuss without him in the room. The problem? Jason didn’t know if Danny was confident enough to be without him for that long. He could already feel Danny stressing about where the conversation was going.

Jason looked around the room. He could tell that the others in the room picked up on Danny’s fear. A silent agreement washed over the room. They would have to get their answers some other time.

…

To say that Danny was ecstatic that Jazz, Sam and Tucker were staying in the manor for now was an understatement. Tim had never seen the kid so happy… so normal acting. He ran around the house and played with toys and excitedly babbled to whoever he was in the room with. And most notably, Jason didn’t have to be in the room anymore. Tim knew this was a good thing but it was still interesting to see the behavior change so quickly.

It had been almost a week now since Danny’s friends moved in and Tim, obviously, had gotten as much information about each one of them as he could. He learned that they had been sent to Gotham by a being called “The Ghost King” who worked with another guy they called “Clockwork.” From what they knew, Clockwork did something that may or may not have had to do with Danny for some unknown reason and the Ghost King sent them to come and “help” with whatever it was.

Tim wasn’t able to get much information about the Ghost King. Not many books in the library were about the occult and whenever Tim tried to bring it up, Sam and Tucker in particular shut down immediately. Clearly there was some tension there. Tim wasn’t going to get anything useful out of them about it.

Clockwork on the other hand? That was a being he was able to get more information on. Clockwork seemed to be a being of time and space. From what little Danny’s friends knew about him, he kept watch over the timelines of universes. As long as they ran smoothly, he didn’t have to interfere. But from the way Sam and Tucker described him in particular, he seemed to get bored and liked to mix things up sometimes with direct interference. He communicated with mortals with post it notes.

After learning that last bit of information, Tim began to wonder which scenario they were living in. Was this ancient being trying to fix their timeline? Or were they all pawns in a game? Was Tim a pawn? Or was he part of the solution?

When Tim had dropped out of the sky, Batman hid the post it note from him. But he wasn’t stupid enough to let it go. He knew Bruce was Batman. Eventually Tim found the post it. Knew what it said. And now knowing about Clockwork, Tim knew what it might mean. Either way, he thought it would be dumb to ignore a direct message from what could be compared to a god. He knew he had to convince Bruce soon. Which might not be too hard since he’s been slowly trying to prove himself worthy.

Other than all of the things Tim learned about why Danny’s friends came to Gotham, he also learned things about them individually. He had a mental note on each one of them.

Jasmine Fenton

- Danny’s biological older sister

- gifted in psychology

- Parents are a sour subject indicating estrangement or trauma

- lives alone

- distrustful of outsiders

- works for a suicide hotline

- saving up to go to college

- has an expansive understanding of the supernatural

- cannot see ghosts like Danny

- non meta human

Samantha Manson

- Member of the Manson family, heir to the estate and fortune

- has known Danny for several years

- most likely used to have romantic feelings for Danny when they were the same age (Tim does not have evidence for this, he just has a feeling)

- enjoys alternative clothing and style

- gifted in knowledge about the occult and magics

- vegan

- distrustful of outsiders

- has an extensive knowledge of the supernatural

- cannot see ghosts like Danny

- non meta human

Tucker Foley

- comes from an unremarkable background not worth noting

- has known Danny for several years

- Danny’s best friend before his disappearance

- gifted in technology and coding

- enjoys meat

- distrustful of outsiders

- has an extensive knowledge of the supernatural

- cannot see ghosts like Danny

- non meta human

Tim also learned that the three of them were pretty much on their own in Gotham except for Sam whose family owns a mansion in the area. They seemed to have left their old lives behind in order to find Danny and were mostly living off of the resources that Manson’s family was willing to provide. Their families had no idea where they were and weren’t going to come looking for them. Sam just had to ask for money and it would get wired into her account.

Tim could tell that they weren’t going to go back to Amity Park. Whether they found Danny or not. The place itself seemed to be a sore subject, none of them wanting to think about it too long. Whatever they had experienced there was something that made them leave it behind and not look back on it. He wanted to know more but they weren’t open to sharing.

Tim knew he wasn’t the only one collecting information. Most conversations in the manor were made up of two or three of its inhabitants meeting up in places they knew Danny couldn’t hear them while someone else watched him. Everyone was trading what they knew to one another until everyone could eventually be on the same page. Somewhere in the shuffle, someone slipped up and soon enough, the entire house knew about the Batman.

Tim wasn’t sure who said something that set him off but he had watched as one day Foley stared at a bookshelf until his eyes got wide and he pulled out his PDA. Within a minute, he knew. Somehow, he knew everything. He had looked to Tim and very simply asked, “Is Bruce Batman?” Tim had nodded in response and watched as a lot of information clicked together in Foley’s head. This caused a stir of soft spoken conversations hidden away from the child with super-hearing.

It seemed that Tim was about to have one of those conversations now. Jason had just walked into the library where Foley had been showing Tim coding tricks on his PDA. He watched as his brother nodded to Foley. And he watched as the teen closed his computer and left. Clearly they both knew that Jason wanted to talk to Tim ahead of time.

“What is it?” Tim said, turning to Jason. He could feel the tension in the air. There had been an underlying tension within the house since Danny’s friends arrived but this felt like a bit more than that. This felt… like the start of something that neither of them could reverse.

Jason sat next to Tim silently, complex emotions rushing over his face, “Tim, I need to talk to you about something. I… have learned a lot about myself and Danny. What he is, what I am. How we are connected. And… I’ve come to a decision.” Jason was acting in a way Tim hadn’t ever seen before. His face was calm with a soft accepting smile. But his eyes were full of sadness. Tim didn’t know what to make of it.

“Okay….?” he said slowly. Normally Tim knew what was coming. He could figure it out. But this entire week had been… different. He didn’t know what Jason was going to say. And he didn’t like it.

Jason took a deep breath before saying, “I already gave B the run down so he’s fine with it as long as you are. I want you to take over the title of Robin in my place.”

Oh shit.

Part 3 Part 5

#dc x dp #danny phantom x dc #dc x dp crossover #dcxdp #batfam #dad jason #dead joker #toddler danny #deaged danny #de aged danny #clockwork shenanigans #jason is a teenage dad

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httpswritings · 1 year ago

Text

i'll be here to save the day

alexia putellas x reader x daughter; 489 words

You were trying to calm your daughter down.

Anna, two and a half years old, the most confident but also the most sensitive girl.

You always told her how unique she was for having such a sensitive and empathetic personality, but deep down you were very worried.

The world was very cruel, especially for girls, and since you had found out you were expecting one, you feared for her safety.

Anna had been very fragile today.

She hadn't seen her mamà since yesterday, so when she saw Alexia through the tv screen playing a match, she pouted.

Her bottom lip was trembling and then she started crying.

Alexia loved football and the life she had to live, but she adored her daughter, and she felt very guilty for leaving her side.

“Annita, Mamà will be there in two days.”

Your daughter couldn't still understand the concept of time, so that didn't calm her down.

“I know you're very sad, my love, and that's okay. You can cry as much as you want, sí? I'm here to hold you.”

“I want Mamà!”

“I know, bebé. And Mamà wants you too. She's very happy to see you very soon.”

Alexia scored a goal and looked directly into the camera.

She did a sign with her hands to form the letter “A” and blew a kiss, to then make the special greeting she had with Anna.

“Look! Mamà is doing your greeting!”

Still, Anna didn't calm down.

She didn't understand why her Mamà was on the tv and not by her side.

“Annita, bebé... Come here, my love.”

You switched the tv off and got up from the sofa with your daughter in your arms.

You went to your bedroom and opened the closet.

You let your daughter choose three t-shirts from Alexia: The first one was for her to go to sleep. She chose one of that had some sparkles. The second was for her medium-sized teddy bear. The third one was for you.

“Anna sleep.”

“Yes, bebé. We're going to sleep now.”

“Mami sleep.”

“Exactly, my love. I'm going to sleep next to you so tomorrow we can play with your dinosaurs since we wake up!”

“Mamà sleep.”

You could see how fragile your daughter was feeling, and you tried your best to not cry in front of her.

“Yes. Mamà will sleep thinking about us and when she comes home, we can all play together and watch SpongeBob!”

Surprisingly, Anna curled up to your side and your heart broke, noticing that she was no longer waiting for Alexia to arrive.

She held onto her teddy bear, that had Alexia's t-shirt on.

“Mamà here,” she said, pointing at the stuffed animal.

You just kissed her front, unable to find the right words to minimize her sadness.

Eventually, she fell asleep, and you couldn't hold your tears back anymore.

“Goodnight Ale,” you said, looking at the teddy bear.

#alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas #woso #woso imagine #woso x reader

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scribblesofagoonerr · 4 months ago

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dino's are fancy! | buddy & monkey: double the trouble

summary: new year eve celebrations are in full swing, however, buddy is set on wearing a dinosaur costume to the party, so leah has to compromise somwhere along the line...

double the trouble masterlist

"Ou' need dis one next! B'ue one next!" You demand, less than patient as you thrust the Lego brick into Monkey's hand, "Ere', Monks'! Take it!"

You're sitting cross-legged on the floor in the living room beside Monkey, near to the twinkling Christmas tree. The two of you are deep into building the massive Lego set that your favourite person got for Christmas.

Monkey generously let you help her-- though she was actually doing most of the work, she had cheekily dubbed you as her "assistant."

"Pass it over here then, shrimp," Monkey mumbles, holding her hand out.

"Ere ou' go! 'Ave it!" You chirp, pushing the piece into her hand with determination.

"Good job," Your favourite person murmurs distractedly, focused on the instructions.

The room feels cosy, the soft hum of New Year's preparations buzzing in the background. You're aware there's a big crowd coming over later, and you're beyond excited - especially since your best friend, Rory, is also coming to the party as well with Beth and Viv.

"Monks'?" You not so politely prod the older girl in the shoulder, "When everyone comin' round?" You ask, curiosity piqued.

"Not until way, way later tonight, remember? It'll be dark and the monsters will be out to get ya!" Monkey tells you with a teasing smile.

Your eyes widen in fear, "No' Monsters!" You exclaim, scrambling to your feet and leaving Monkey behind to continue building Lego on her own, "Mummy! Mummy!" You shout aloud the house without a care in the world, absolutely frightened now.

Leah and her girlfriend, Elle, are both currently in the kitchen in the middle of sorting out all the grown-up drinks ahead of the party when you run in like a deer in the headlights.

"Whoa," Elle is the first to catch you mid-run before you crash into something and hurt yourself like you've done once or twice before, "You okay, little miss?"

"I scared. Where's me, mum?" You ask frantically, your eyes darting around the room to catch sight of Leah, "Mummy! Where are ou'?"

"I'm right here, bubba," Leah chuckles, carrying a couple of funny-looking bottles in her hand as she places them both down on the kitchen countertop, before crouching down to your level and seeing your frightened expression, "Hey, what's the matter?"

"Mummy! Monks' said der' be monsters tonight at the party cos' it'll be late!" Your bottom lip trembles with worry, your eyes wide like saucers, "I don' wan see none of da' monsters!"

"What? Ignore your big sister, bubba. I think she’s just being a bit silly," Leah says, shaking her head in disagreement, reaching down to scoop you up and sit you on top of the kitchen counter, "There'll be no monsters in sight at all, alright? You're safe inside the house."

"Ou' promise?" You look sceptical, not entirely sure whether to trust Leah's word or not.

"I promise, bubba," Leah coos, gently moving a flyaway hair out of your eyes, "Monkey is just joking around like she does, alright? But there'll definitely be no monsters at the party tonight, so you have nothing to fear!" She adds, playfully poking you on the nose.

"Kay' den but ou' better mean it!" You agree, still somewhat sceptical about the answer, "I needs’ to ask ou' a question, please!"

"That's good manners, bubba," Leah praises with a soft smile, "And what might your question be then?"

"When Roo comin' round?" You question, impatiently, "Monks' said no till later on. Dat true?" You ask, letting out a dramatic huff, complete with flailing arms.

Leah smiles softly, nodding in agreement, "Monks' is right there, bubba. It won't be until much later on when it's dark outside, remember?"

"Why no' earlier? It be borin' when it' dark!" You exclaim, scrunching your face up in confusion, "Me and Roo can' no play with me all toys if it' dark, Mummy!"

"There'll be time to play, bubba," Leah reminds you with a soft, genuine smile, "And remember? Roo’s sleeping over tonight. Are you excited about that?"

Your eyes lit up in excitement, "Uh huh! I 'cited for me sleepover, an' I gets to see Auntie Kei as well, right?" You question, getting straight to the point.

"You do, and Holly, too. I know she's really looking forward to seeing you!" Leah grins enthusiastically, "And you know, Auntie Beth and Auntie Vivi will be coming as well, along with some of the other girls now they're back!"

"I more excited to see dem. I already see Holly at Nanas' other day," You retort, sassily with a small roll of your eyes, "She nothin' special anymore, Mummy. She don' even bring me choc'ote, she mean."

"Bubba," Leah starts, biting back laughter, "That's not very nice to say things like that now, is it? You know Holly loves you a lot, regardless if she brings you chocolate, or not."

"Yeah, but, I mean Auntie Kei better than Holly cos' she bring me cookies at least!" You declare, your mind made up on the matter.

Monkey snorts as she enters the kitchen, "Ooft, don't let Holly hear you say that, shrimp." She jokes, ruffling your hair as she passes you.

"Oi, you," Leah turns herself round to look at the teenage girl, "What's this I'm hearin' about you telling Buddy that there'll monsters tonight because it's dark?" She questions.

Monkey winces in realisation, "It was a joke, I swear."

"Yeah, well, it won't be very funny when she's waking up in the middle of the night crying though, will it?" Leah retorts, arching her eyebrow.

"No... I'm only messin' I promise," Monkey protests her innocence, holding her hands up in self-surrender, "Sorry, little Buddy. I didn't mean to really scare you, honest. Do you forgive me?" She apologises to you.

"It'fine. I 'pose' I forgive ou'!" You agree, nodding your head promptly.

Monkey grins cheekily, before proceeding to walk over to the fridge, "I'm absolutely hank Marvin'!"

"Me too!" You chime in, "I 'ank Marvin' as well, Mummy!"

"Oh, you are, huh?" Leah teases, ticking your sides until giggles bubble out of you, "I guess the three pancakes you ate for breakfast didn't fill up, did they?"

"No. I still hungy!" You continue to protest, holding your stomach to emphasis.

"Oh, I'm sure you are," Leah teases, playfully rolling her eyes.

"I'm so hungry I could eat a flippin' horse!" Monkey complains, rummaging through the fridge, and pulling out a bag of grated cheese and digging in before Leah swiftly intercepts.

"Aye," Leah scolds, taking the bag away and shooting her a disapproving look, "If you're going to eat that then at least make a sandwich, eh?"

Monkey grimaces, "Yeah, but sarnies are effort."

"Well, then you're not that hungry, are you?" Leah deadpans, returning the cheese to the fridge.

"Yeah, well, it's a lot of effort," Monkey mumbles in response, slumping her shoulders, "Well, what else can I eat? You've practically written everything off for later for the party, I'm starving 'ere, you know? I'm a growing girl!" She states, dramatically.

"You literally ate breakfast less than an hour ago, I'm sure you'll cope," Leah retorts, not resisting the urge to roll her eyes.

"How can you both be so hungry?" Elle chuckles, shaking her head.

"I'm a growing girl, innit?" Monkey insists.

"Yeah, I g'owing girl as well!" You parrot.

"Copycat," Monkey mutters.

You give her your best scowl, "Am not!"

"Are too!" Monkey quips.

"No I not!" You fire back, stomping your foot in protest.

"Yes you are, you're such a parrot recently..." Monkey murmurs, going back to the fridge to grab a can of Diet Coke out.

"Are they always like this?" Elle jokes, amusedly watching you and Monkey bicker back and forth.

"More often than not it seems these days," Leah retorts, chuckling and shaking her head, "Girls, that's enough, you two. Can we go one day without you two squabbling, eh?"

"Sorry," Monkey mumbles, piercing the drink and taking a swig of it.

"I sorry. I only speakin' truth!" You feign innocence, using familiar words you've heard one too many times now.

Leah chuckles, smoothing a flyaway piece of hair out of your eyes, "Right, shall we go and find you something to wear for the party tonight?" She suggests, switching focus.

"Yeah!" You excitedly agree, eager to get down from the kitchen counter, "An Elle help as well!" You add, pointing your index finger in the direction of the woman.

"You want me to come and help you?" Elle repeats, surprised.

"Uh-huh. I need 'elp choosing!" You insist with a firm nod of your head, "Can ou' help me down, please?"

"Sure I can, little madam," Elle retorts, scooping you up off the kitchen worktop with practised ease like she's done it all before.

"Thank ou' very much!" You exclaim politely before you have the advantage to run off ahead of them, "Come on, Mummy! Come on, Elle. We needs' to pick me outfit!"

"It's very important isn't it," Leah teases, catching up with you as she shakes her head fondly, "Which dress are you going to pick out?" She wonders.

You impatiently tug open the doors of your wardrobe before spinning around and scrunching your face up in disgust, "No dress, Mummy. They yucky!"

"Oh, but how about the dress that Nana brought you?" Leah suggests, moving to grab the sparkly silver dress out of the wardrobe, "Or there's the pink one as well..."

"No, Mummy. I no wear a dress!" You state, stubbornly as you cross your arms over your chest, turning towards Elle, "Can ou' tell her that she's being ridiculous?" You insist.

"I'm being ridiculous?" Leah fauxes her hurt, clutching her hand over her chest, "Oh, where has my little baby girl gone..." She pretends to wipe a fake tear from her eye.

"It 'kay, Mummy. I still here, but I big girl now!" You tell her with a cheeky lopsided grin on your face, "I love ou'!" You add, moving to stand in front of her.

"I love you too, bubba," Leah smiles, squishing your cheeks together and kissing you on the top of your forehead, "Right then, so if you don't want to wear a dress. What do you want to wear instead?"

"Hm, I fink... Dino'daur costume!" You exclaim, spotting it out the corner of your eye hanging on a coat hook, "Dino'daur costume protect me from da monsters!"

"Your dinosaur costume, again?" Leah repeats in a silly tone of voice, "Don't you want to wear something cool for the party? You can wear anything you like! You don't need to wear anything to protect you from the Monsters, they're non-existent, remember, bubba?"

"I wear dino'daur costume just in case!" You insist, puffing out your chest with determination.

Leah grimaces slightly in disagreement, "Bubba, I think you might end up getting a little bit hot when you wear that when you're dancing, won't you, hmm? Maybe we could try a different option..."

"No, I be fine. I gon' wear dino'daur costume!" You tell her firmly, your mind made up on the decision, "I dance in dino'daur costume!"

Elle chuckles in amusement, "Well that's certainly a different option, hey?"

Leah still doesn't look entirely convinced on the matter, "Little miss, I know you want to wear your dinosaur costume, but don't you want to wear something a bit more... fancier?"

"Ou' need to understand, 'kay, Mummy?" You tell her with a certain seriousness, "Dinos' are fancy!"

Leah bit back a laugh, "Oh are they, huh? I mean, what about pretty instead?"

"Yuck! No pretty! Dino instead!" You declare.

"But... I thought you liked this one, bubba."

"No, it itchy an' scratchy, an it look horrible!" You ramble off different words you have heard before, shaking your head making your decision firm.

Leah blinks, "You won't look horrible, bubba--"

"Yes, I will! I be look hideous in it! I no wear dat!" You interject, repeating the words that you hear Monkey say when she doesn't like a certain outfit she wears and looks in the mirror.

"Bubba, Nana brought you this one though, and you liked it when you saw it," Leah explains in a gentle tone of voice, "How about we give it a try?"

You shake your head in disagreement, crossing your arms over your chest, "I don' care. I wan' be a dino'daur!"

"Excuse me, little miss sass," Leah mumbles in outrage at your newfound sassiness that she's still not entirely used to.

"Ou' need to understand Mummy 'dat dino'daur better," You wiggle your index finger in front of her face and have a somewhat serious expression plastered on your own, "'Kay?"

Leah stifles her amusement with a bite of her bottom lip, "Right, whatever you say then, my stubborn little miss," She jokes, "Are you sure you don't want to try something different instead?"

"Nooo!" You exclaim loud enough to be heard through the whole house, "I be dino'daur, Mummy. Roaaaar!" You let out an almightly loud roar like one of your favourite t-rexes.

"What, are we pretendin' to be a dinosaur tonight?" Monkey teases as she sticks her head around your bedroom door, "T-Rex or Stegosaurus?"

You ponder the question for a brief second, tapping your small finger on your chin, "I be a t-rex!" You insist, "Roaaaaaar! Stomp! Stomp! Stomp!"

"Scary little t-rex," Monkey jokes, pretending to look somewhat terrified, "What're you shoutin' the house down 'bout anyways?"

"I be a dino'daur for da party!" You tell her, pointing your index finger in the direction of the costume where it lay still, "Monks'! Ou' tell Mummy dat she hafta let me wear it!"

"Well, I mean, why not, eh? You can rock the dino costume!" Monkey exclaims, stepping further into the room and taking the chance to ruffle your hair, "We'll have a little dino at the party instead of a little Buddy, eh?"

"Aye, no, Monks' get off me hair!" You whine, trying to push her hands off you.

"Buddy," Leah tries again, "Maybe just for tonight, we can try something different instead, hm? What about this?" She suggests, holding up a different outfit.

"Nooo! I no' wearin' dat," You tell her, scrunching your face up in disgust, "No way I wearin' dat!"

"Geesh, three-year-olds are so sassy these days," Monkey quips, plonking herself down on the carpeted floor, "You know, she's really not going to want to wear anything other than the dumb dinosaur costume now that she has it."

"Yeah, you're not kidding there," Leah mumbles, pinching the bridge of her nose, "I clearly shot myself in the foot there, haven't I?"

Monkey pulls a silly face, flailing her hands up, "I mean, really, it's sorta your own fault for buying it for Christmas. Whatcha' think would happen?"

Leah shoots your favourite person a disapproving look, "Yeah, alright, thanks for your help, Menace," She mutters, "Bubba, look, it's really not that bad. Why don't you just try it on and see what you think?"

"No! I gon' look like a... I look like a bin bag!" You declare promptly, standing firm on your decision, "I no wearin' it an' ou' can' make me!"

Elle bites her lip to stifle her amusement.

"A big bag?" Leah repeats, baffled, "No, you won't. I think you will look adorable."

You shake your head in disagreement, "No. I won', Mummy! An it be itchy, an' scratchy, an' I be smelly!"

"Smelly?" Monkey snorts in amusement.

"Yeah, I smell 'orrible, like da bin!" You insist.

"Personally, and I'm just saying, my own opinion and all," Monkey begins, exchanging a cheeky grin with Leah, "I think you might as well let her wear the dino costume, cos' otherwise it's gonna end in tears, innit?

"Alright, fine," Leah inwardly groans, "I give in. Bubba, you can wear your dinosaur costume to the party tonight."

"Yeah, I be dino'daur!" You exclaim, practically vibrating with excitement, "An I bring all m' dino'daurs into da living room to show 'eryone!"

"Bubba, no," Leah's eyes widen at the determination in your little voice, "We're not bringing all your dinosaurs into the living room..."

You scrunch your brows together in confusion, "No, ou' listen! I gon' ave' me t-rex, an' me steg'saurus, an' me bron'saurus! I have to show all of 'em!" It's very important, that each one of your dinosaurs gets shown around to everyone at the party tonight.

"You can take a few downstairs to show, but not all of them, alright?" Leah overrules your own decision in a gentle tone of voice, "You have quite a lot now, and we don't want any of them to get broken now, do we?"

You huff in disagreement, "Well den dey should be more careful an' no' stand on 'em!"

"Wha?" Leah blinks in confusion, "Right, Bubba, that's not the point. You can maybe bring one or two downstairs, but no more than that, okay?"

"Why no more? I wan bring 'em all!" You cross your arms over your chest and stomp your foot in protest, "Ou' bein' mean no' lettin' me bring 'em all down! Ou' said I can do dat!"

Leah opens and closes her mouth, baffled by your words, "Since when?"

"Since... Since ou' said so, Mummy!" You insist, stubbornly, "I heard ou' say it! Ou' said I can!" You repeat.

"No, no, I didn't," Leah retorts, shaking her head, "I said you could take a few downstairs, but not all of them."

"But dey all 'ave to come down, or dey be lonely on their own up 'ere!" You exclaim, dramatically throwing your arms up in the air, "Ou' hafta 'ave 'em all!"

"I'm sure there will be just fine upstairs, bubba," Leah chuckles, shaking her head.

You shake your head in disagreement, "I don' think so, Mummy. Ou' might hurt der feelings!"

"Bubba..." Leah looks exasperated, all but ready to give in.

"Cos' ou' can' 'ave one, an' then no 'ave the others," You cut her words short, telling her your over-the-top explanation, "Ou' can' be like meany like dat, Mummy!"

"I'm not... I'm not being mean," Leah mumbles in disbelief.

Needless to say, the conversation ends with you bringing down a whole bucket full of different dinosaurs, and chucking them onto the rug in the living room.

"Auntie Kei!" You exclaim, spotting the woman walk through the living room with her girlfriend, Laura, beside her. " Ou' 'ere!" You don't waste time throwing your tiny arms around her legs.

"Ooh, hello little dinosaur!" Keira coos, scooping you into her arms and squeezing you tightly, "Did you have a good Christmas this year? Did you get spoilt lots and lots?"

"Uh huh, I got lots an' lots of new toys!" You tell her excitedly, flailing your arms in the air for further dramatics, "I' got a dino' costume. See?" You say, motioning to the outfit you're wearing.

"I do, wow," Keira playfully gasps, tickling your sides, "It's very roar-some!"

Leah appears with a drink in hand, "Ah, you guys are here!" She exclaims with enthusiasm, wrapping her free arm around Keira first and then Laura, "I see you met our little dinosaur of the night." She jokes.

"Hiya, Le!" Keira greets her best friend, "We did, and she looks absolutely adorable!"

"Mummy let me choose me outfit me' self!" You declare proudly.

"Yeah... I mean, I did try and sway her mind but well Buddy is very stubborn," Leah begins to explain, "Which I now realise is a trait she has picked up from either me or Jord, apparently."

"Oh, we could have told you that before," Holly chimes in on the conversation, holding another couple of drinks in her hand for Keira and Laura, "Personally, I think she takes after you more than she does Jord, especially when it comes to her stubbornness."

"What? Rude," Leah mumbles before she takes a sip of her drink, "I'm not that stubborn..." She retorts, mocking her offence.

"Sure, you tell yourself that," Keira snickers, thinking otherwise, "Where's the other troublemaker? It's quiet around here."

"Currently chatting Elle's ear off about whether she's watched Shrek or not," Leah explains with a half-amused smile, taking a sip of her drink, "I'm sure she'll be more than happy to see you both though!"

"We're here!" Beth announces, walking through the house with an energetic five-year-old attached to her, "We're not that late are we? Little miss here wanted to choose the perfect outfit to wear."

"No, no, you're just in time," Leah grins, wrapping her free arm around Beth and Viv, before crouching down to Rory's level, "Hi, Roo! Did you have a good Christmas with your Mummy and Mamma?"

"Hi, Auntie Le! I got loads of presents, and friends for Twix as well!" Rory is beaming a great big smile on her face.

"Roo!" You shout in excitement, wriggling in Keira's arms to get down.

Rory's face lights up even more, "Buddy!"

"Let's go an' play!" You are ecstatic to see your own best friend, Rory again, "Put me down' please, Auntie Kei!”

"As you wish, little dino," Keira obliges and sets you back down on the floor.

Beth chuckles, "At least the two of them are happy enough, Roos' been ecstatic about tonight," She tells her, before taking note of your outfit as you are set back down on your feet, "What's with the dinosaur costume? That's an acquired outfit, eh?"

"Let's just say I know which battles to pick, and this battle with my three-year-old, well it's just better to agree to the costume rather than the full-blown meltdown I could have ended up with," Leah explains with a shake of the head.

"Sounds like you've had a fun day then," Viv laughs in amusement.

"Just another day being a parent to a three-year-old," Leah retorts, shaking her head in asperation, "Don't even get me started on the swearing jar, either..."

"Mummy puts' lot of money in der cos' she always sayin' words she shouldn't!" You throw Leah directly under the bus, "An Mama 'ave one now as well!"

"Oh?" Keira arches her eyebrow in amusement.

"Yeah, let's not talk about that," Leah huffs in response, taking another sip of her drink in hand.

"Come on, Roo, let' go an' play!" You impatiently tug on Rory's hand, attempting to drag her over to where you'd thrown all your dinosaurs out, along with the rest of the toys out of your toy box, but there’s is always still room for more, "Mummy say no gettin' all me toys out but I think it fine!"

“Buddy, no more getting any more of your toys out,” Leah calls aloud, shaking her head with an aspirated sigh as she hears the unmistakable clatter of toys being thrown out onto the floor again, “I might as well just talk to myself right now– Buddy, no more, please or people are going to trip over them!”

“Mm, yummy pizza!” You exclaim enthusiastically, rubbing your stomach as you sit cross-legged on the floor, happily munching on a slice, “It good, isn’t it, Roo?” You ask your best friend, your grin as wide as can be.

“Yeah, it’s good!” Rory agrees with a mouthful of pizza, nodding eagerly.

From the corner of the room, Monkey strolls over, a mischievous twinkle in her eye, “Hey, munchkins!” She crouches beside you, her gaze fixed on your pizza like a cat watching a mouse, “You enjoyin’ that, little dinosaur?”

“I eatin’ pizza, Monks’!” You beam proudly, completely oblivious to her intentions, “Ou’ can’ have any! It mine!”

Monkey lets out a playful gasp, clutching her chest in mock offence, “What? Not even a single bite of it? I’m starvin’ over here!”

“Nooo!” You cry, clutching your pizza slice to your chest as if it were your most prized possession, “It mine, Monks’. No’ ours'!”

Monkey chuckles, but her hand moves faster than you expect. Before you can react, she pinches the tip of your pizza slice and takes a playful bite.

“Hey!” You squeal, scowling at her as you pull the now-smaller slice away, “Da mean! Dat mine!”

“Mm, it tastes even better when it’s stolen,” Monkey murmurs, licking her fingers with exaggerated satisfaction.

You glare at her, your cheeks puffing out in frustration, “No steal, Monks’. Dat bad!”

“Aw, come on Buddy,” Monkey ruffles your hair with a cheeky grin still plastered on her face, “Sharing is caring!”

“You can’t eat her pizza!” Roo exclaims, giggling as she keeps a tight hold of her own pizza.

“Nooo!” You huff, your voice growing louder in protest, “Mummy!”

“What’s going on in here?” Leah’s voice cuts through the room as she steps in, her hands on her hips, “Why does it feel like you two are always arguing at the minute? What’s happened this time?”

“Oh, hey, Le!” Monkey says, flashing her an innocent smile, “We’re not arguing, honest. We’re bonding! Right, Buddy?”

“Mummy! Monks’ is ‘tupid!” You accuse, pointing an accusatory finger at the teenage girl.

“Whoa,” Leah frowns as she crouches down to your level, “Hey, bubba, we don’t use words like that, do we? It’s nice not.” She tells you, her tone is gentle but still holds a sense of firmness.

“But she is doh! She ate m’ pizza!” You insist, your tiny fingers still directed at Monkey like a prosecutor in court.

Leah pinches the bridge of her nose, glancing up at Monkey, “What did you do that for?”

The teenage girl shrugs, still grinning sheepishly, “In my defence… Well, I guess there is none, but the pizza tasted super good!”

“There’s plenty of pizza left, Menace,” Leah sighs, shaking her head, “You’re only upsetting her when you take her things.”

“Yeah, okay, I didn’t think that one through,” Monkey admits, scratching the back of her neck, “Sorry, Buddy. I didn’t mean to eat your pizza. Am I’ forgiven?”

“No, m’ pizza gone now!” You whine, your bottom lip quivering as you clutch the remains of your slice, “I don’ like ou' right now, Monkey!”

“I’m really sorry for eating it, shrimp,” Monkey looks incredibley guilty about eating the pizza.

Leah strokes your hair gently, “It’s okay, bubba. We can get you another slice, yeah? It’s just pizza, there’s plenty of it.”

“But it’ mine!” You protest, sniffling, “An’ she ate it!”

Monkey’s guilty expression deepens, “Hey, Buddy. I’m really sorry for stealing your pizza,” She says, crouching to your level, “Tell you what–how about I make it up to you with some… lemonade?”

“Fizzy pop?” You ask, your tears momentarily forgotten as curiosity takes over.

“Yeah…” Monkey hesitates, instantly regretting her offer but knowing she’s already said it.

“Yeah!” You exclaim, your face lightening up with excitement.

Leah blinks at Monkey, her disbelief evident, “Are you serious right now? It’s almost 8 pm, Menace!”

Monkey shrugs with a custious smile, “Hey, look how happy she is now! Win-win, right?”

“Unbelievable,” Leah mutters, shaking her head, “You can have one small cup of lemonade, bubba, but no more than that. Just this once, and we’re not telling your Mama about this either, got it?”

“Oou' got it dude!” You beam a wide smile, sticking your thumb up in the air.

It’s inching closer to midnight, but you’re nowhere near tired. You’re sitting cross-legged on the carpet in the living room, surrounded by your toys, stacking blocks and chatting to Rory with endless energy.

“Stack it’ like dat Roo!” You insist.

“This way?” Rory replies in question, gesturing to the green block in her hand.

“Uh huh!” You nod in agreement.

“Come on bubba, time for bed," Leah says softly, holding her hand out to you.

You cross your arms stubbornly, sticking your bottom lip out in defiance, “No' bed. I stay up tonight with all da grown-ups!"

Leah crouches down to your level, tilting her head, "Oh no little miss. You definitely need to get some sleep, or you'll be super grumpy in the morning, won't you?"

"I no like dat. I be fine. I gots to stay awake!" You insist, stomping your foot for emphasis.

Leah bites back a smile, "I think it might be a bit too late for you, bubba," She says, pointing to your drooping eyelids.

"No, I stay 'wake. I wish 'erybody 'appy new year!" You tell her with determination.

"Buddy,” Leah sighs, rubbing her temples, “It's going to be very late, and I might get into trouble with Mama if I let you stay up, and she finds out, hmm?"

You shake your head, "Dat don't matter. I stay up wif everyone else!"

"Bubba--" Leah begins to speak.

"We don' hafta tell her. It 'kay!" You declare confidently.

Leah shakes her head, amused but exasperated, "That's not the point, little miss..."

Keira, lounging on the sofa, chuckles at the exchange, "She's really trying to blag you there," She says, grinning.

"Oh, she definitely is," Leah replies, raising an eyebrow at your mischievous grin.

"I stay up. Deal?" You say, holding out your tiny hand like a seasoned negotiator.

Leah laughs incredulously, "... What? No deal, bubba. Little girls like you can't stay up that late, it's bedtime for a reason, New Year’s Eve or not."

You pout dramatically, "Don' be borin' Mummy. I no like ou' when ou' like dat!"

"Umm excuse me little miss, I'm not boring,” Leah places her hands on her lips, feigning offence, “I am just wanting to make sure you're going to sleep at a reasonable time.”

"Come on Le, what's the harm in letting her stay up late for just tonight? It is New Year’s Eve after all, eh?" Keira chimes in, smirking.

Leah exhales a sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose, "I don't know why I even bother," She mumbles, "Fine, but if Jord questions it then it's on you to tell her!"

“It’s fine, I can deal with that,” Keira grins as she gets up off the sofa and scoops you up into her arms, “Come on my little dino, let’s go and find the biscuits in the cupboard!”

“Not too many because it’s near to bedtime– Oh, that went in one ear and out the other. Never mind…”

The living room hums with the warm buzz of conversation and laughter as Keira carries you into the kitchen. Setting you down on the counter, she holds you steady with one hand while rummaging through the cupboard with the other.

“Right then, little dinosaur,” Keira says, peering into the cupboard, “What biscuits do we fancy?”

“Da choc’late ones!” You exclaim, clapping your hands with glee, “Choc’late da bestest!”

Keira chuckles, pulling out a pack of chocolate biscuits and handing one to you, “Chocolate it is. But just one, alright? It’ll be our little secret, yeah?”

You nod eagerly, biting into the biscuit with a big grin, “I no tell! It our ‘ecret!”

Keira winks, popping a biscuit into her own mouth, “Exactly. Our secret.”

By the time midnight was approaching the party was in full swing. Laughter and music filled the room, and you were more determined than ever to prove Leah wrong by staying awake and joining in the celebrations.

Rory had long since succumbed to sleep, her head resting on Viv’s shoulder, but you were still fighting valiantly to keep your eyes open.

As the countdown began, your resolve wavered and you curled up on the sofa, a party hat sat crooked on your head, and a party blower hung limply from your mouth.

“10... 9… 8…” Everyone began to count down in the room.

But you didn’t even make it to one.

The sound of fireworks outside should have been enough to keep you awake, but it was all too much for you it seems.

“I think the partying might’ve been a bit much for her after all,” Holly quips with a grin, gesturing toward your peaceful, sleeping form.

Leah chuckles softly, crossing the room to you, “Oh, bubba,” She coos, carefully tucking a blanket around you. She brushes a stray curl for your forehead, her expression warm and tender, “Happy New Year, my little dinosaur.” She added, pressing a gente kiss to the top of your head, lingering a moment for straightening up.

#monkey #double the trouble fic #leah williamson x reader #woso x reader #woso one shot #scribblesofagoonerr #buddy #chaos fc reader #separate reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso community

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