#One of the toddlers looks him in the eyes very solemnly and says that “Dad is broody”

[puppetmaster13u]

How dare you hide this in the tags @gaozorous-rex-blog

Prompt 118

Everyone is freaking out. The titan tower was broken into, no signs of who it was, and Tim- Robin- is missing. There’s blood on the walls, taunting them, implying that Tim is going through agony, and they can’t deal with another dead Robin, they can’t- 

Meanwhile Tim is bemused, maybe a little concussed because that would explain things maybe, as he’s found himself in a living room full of books and there’s a pair of kids too? One is straight up adoption bait- wait no there’s three, with two of them being adoption bait and the third being a redhead. There’s a trio of small children there already playing by the couch he’s been bundled into. 

Where the heck is his mask- or his bo staff or any of his supplies- is that the fucking Red Hood?! No, couldn’t be, must be the concussion, because why would the Red Hood be feeding him a bowl of soup?

[erodasfishtacos]

It’s Just Me (mini blurb)

if you enjoyed this fic - PLEASE reblog, rec, like, and come chat with me about the fic!

if you like my work and can donate as i do this for free - please consider donating to my ko-fi.

———————

It was a terrible twos kind of day. The kind of day when YN can’t tote Ivy along to a charity organization brunch because she would meltdown.

Harry had her in his office with him, she was sitting on a blanket Harry had laid out, and was quietly playing with her stuffed animals (mostly seals.)

Occasionally, she would babble to herself and get pissed of at her inatimate playmates, ending in her tossing it to the side.

He caught himself just staring at her, smiling as he watches the little human he and his soulmate created right in front of him.

When his phone rings, he automatically picks it up, professionally stating, “Styles.”

“Hi, this is Dan from Payroll,” The guys voice was already shaking and Harry knew he was about to get really pissed off.

“How can I help you?” He asks in a tone that’s was definitely did not sound like he wanted to provide any assistance.

There is a pregnant pause before Dan nearly stutters, “Er, I accidentally missed reviewing the marketing departments hours and they did not receive their last paycheck.”

Harry takes a very deep breathe because he wants to do what he normally would - scream through the phone at this idiot.

However, he can’t because his curly haired little baby is playing with her toys in the middle of the office with a smile.

“Please come up to my office,” Harry replies curtly before hanging up.

He gets up, goes over to his daughter, and squats in front of her, “Ivy, baby.”

She looks up at him with a toothy grin before reaching over to hand him a stuffed seal, “Play, daddy.”

Harry thumbs over a stray curl on her forehead, “Daddy can’t, my love. I need y’to go with Granny Dor for a little.”

Ivy had been very clinging to both YN and Harry recently. She had a fit when YN dropped her off, despite how happy she was to see her dad.

Her brows furrow, lips purse, and Harry has to laugh because she looks like a carbon copy of him with the sour face.

“Oh, no mean looks t’daddy,” He hums with his own frown, “S’just for a moment, m’dove.”

“No.”

“Ivy, y��need to listen.”

And Harry knows it coming, she sucks in a huge breathe and then just lets out a scream in protest of him.

“Ivy Elizabeth Styles, y’do not scream. Y’know better. Are we going to have to take a timeout or are you going to go sit nice with Dor?” Harry’s voice is still softer than he’d use with any of him employees but extremely firm to her.

“No timeout, daddy,” She mumbles, her volume decreasing significantly as she lowers her gaze from her father’s.

“Alright, then c’mon. Thank you for listening,” Harry praises, gathering up her toys for her and leading her into his waiting room where Dorothy is typing away on her computer.

“Dor, Dan is coming up and I need to have a private meaning. Will y’watch her for a little?”

Ivy is already clambering up into her lap, into the warmth of her arms, and nuzzling in - because Granny Dor spoiled her silly.

Harry rolls his eyes, muttering, “And you and YN say I spoil her too much. Bloody ridiculous.”

Dorothy just shoos him away, readjusting Ivy’s bow, and combing through her hair softly to simmer her down a little.

Dan trails in solemnly soon after to face his inevitable doom.

He sees his boss’ daughter perched on the secretary’s lap and he wonders how such a sweet little thing could be created from the demon of a man.

As Harry and Dan meet, Ivy gets wriggly and squirms off of Dorothy’s lap.

“Stay close,” She murmurs to the toddler as she picks up her phone to answer a call for Harry.

Of course, Ivy doesn’t listen, and she noticed that the door to her father’s office is cracked open just the littlest bit.

It’s enough for her to slip through the space between the heavy doors and toddles on, she’s blocked by the leather couches so Harry can’t see her.

“I have givin’ you so many fuckin’ chances!” Harry seethes angrily at his employee. His tone was more like a growl than anything else.

Ivy pauses, eyes widening in fear as she hears her dad speak in a frightening manner she’s never heard before.

“I…There was a coding error that I had been distracted with, it won’t happen again,” Dan insists, knowing he had actually committed a fireable offense.

“You are absolutely correct because you’re fucking fired,” Harry replies, no wavering in his raspy register.

“That’s bullshit and you know it!” Dan explodes, “It’s unfucking fair treatment! It was one mistake, you fuckin’ asshole!”

There’s a moment of silence.

“I can fuckin’ show you unfair treatment. Get the fuck out of my office and learn how to do your goddamn job,” Harry retorts, his voice rising as well.

Ivy is stuck in her spot, frozen in surprise at hearing the arguing and how mad her father sounded, voice echoing through the room.

“You listen to me-“

“Get the fuck out of my office!” Harry booms furiously, this employee managing to get a rise out of him.

“I was ju-“

Both the men pause when they hear a wail from behind the sofa and the sound of Ivy plopping herself on the ground.

Harry instantly is out from behind his desk and going to round the sofa in a flash with a rose of panic in his chest.

His heart drops when he sees his baby looking up at him with fear in her watery eyes and she’s literally shaking.

“Oh, baby. Did y’hear daddy bein’ loud?” Harry murmurs in his sweetest, comforting voice - uncaring of his employee hearing him.

Harry expects her to nod sadly and ask for a cuddle but she instead wriggles backwards when he goes to reach for her - out of his reach.

“Ivy, little dove, s’just y’daddy,” He tries again, sitting down in front of her - doesn’t even look up as Dan leaves quietly.

She’s scared though and has had never felt worse in his life as his daughter backs away from him until she’s getting to her wobbly feet.

He tries again, reaching his arms out, “Ivy Elizabeth, s’just daddy. M’sorry I scared you, bub.”

Ivy doesn’t budge, crying loudly with her face pinched up as hot tears run down her soft chubby cheeks.

Dorothy appears with a worried look, “I apologize, I thought she was by the table.”

“S’not your fault I’m a shitty father,” Harry mutters, standing back up and roughly brushing off his trousers.

“Oh Harry, she’s just a little frightened,” Dorothy hums, picking the girl up when she toddles quickly over to her.

Her dad trails over, “Ivy, m’love. Can you look at daddy?”

She refuses, digging her face into the woman’s shoulder, curls bouncing fiercely as she clings onto her.

Harry loved to be feared. Not like this though. Not by the child he’d literally jump in front of a train for without a second thought.

He would rather have her screaming, pitching fits, throwing toys rather than this. She was so scared that she wouldn’t even look at him.

“Let me take her on a little stroll, okay? See if I can calm her down a bit.”

—

Harry waits patiently for Dorothy to arrive back but he automatically hears his daughter’s steady stream of sniffles and whimpers.

He goes out to the waiting room to see her reentering the room, she sighs, “I think it’s time to call mummy.”

Harry had no idea how he was going to explain this to his wife. He was I trouble and he knew he deserved it.

“Hey H, is the bab okay?” YN greets warmly, chattering in the background.

“Er, she’s okay, just upset. Ivy accidentally walked in on me flipping out and firing an employee. Now she’s scared. Dor tried to calm her down and she doesn’t want to be near me right now.”

YN’s next words were calm, Harry however did not miss the sharp edge when she replies, “I’ll be there in fifteen.”

Then she hangs up on him.

Which she really never does unless she is really really upset.

—

When YN arrives, Ivy is sat on Dorothy’s lap with puffy eyes and her thumb tucked between her full lips, popping it out when she sees her mother.

“Mumma!” Ivy shrieks, tears beginning streaming down her face as she impatiently waits for her to cross the room and gives her a soft kiss to the forehead.

“Hi baby, give mummy one minute and then we’ll leave okay?” YN murmurs soothingly, thumbing of some of the tears.

Ivy nods but is standing next the secretary’s desk, waiting patiently with her thumb going right back between her lips again.

Harry’s sitting at his large oak table, looking like a guilty puppy as his wife comes in with a disapproving look on her face.

“Baby, m’sorr-“

“What the fuck, Harry? Why is our daughter out there terrified right now?” YN demands, crossing her arms to prove her anger.

“Some fuckin’ idiot messed somethin’ up and Ivy walked in while I cursed him out and fired him. She was hiding behind the couch. It was an accident,” He defends, bristling a bit.

“Even if the door was shut, she would have still heard you. You knew better than to act like that around our daughter.”

“I had to fire him,” Harry makes the lame excuse because he knows he’s in the wrong and he’s not always great at admitting he is.

“You were supposed to have Ivy for two hours and this happens. I have her all day everyday and I’ve need had an issue with controlling myself in front of others!” YN yells (quietly) at him.

“What the fuck is tha’ supposed to mean? Y’calling me a bad father? Y’have her all day with her because I work so that you can stay at home with her.”

YN rolls her eyes, “Well thank god for that, she’d be cursing and screaming at people all day everyday if she was with you all the time.”

Harry is thoroughly pissed at his wife and she is equally just as furious with him - it doesn’t happen often but when it does it’s bad.

“Y’got some fuckin’ nerve. Our baby is polite, well-mannered because of me too! Not just you, fuckin’ claiming all her good qualities,” He replies with a snarl.

“Don’t talk to me that way,” YN bites back, “I’m not one of your employees. Neither is Ivy despite you talking like that in front of her.”

Now she was just trying to push his buttons and it was well onto it’s way of working.

“Y’bein’ fuckin’ ridiculous! It was a accident and you’re acting like I did it on purpose! Fuckin’ hell!” He raises his voice in frustration.

“I don’t know who the fuck you think you are raising your voice at me but I’m leaving,” YN tells him, giving him one final glare before storming out of the office.

“Fuck!” He grunts, smacking cup of pens from his desk before slamming his fist on the desk.

—

Ivy was waiting patiently, whimpering when she sees her mum, and gesturing to be picked up, “It’s past your nap time, Vee.”

“Nap,” She lisps sadly, instantly curling into then familiarness that is her mother. Eyes instantly fluttering shut.

“Thank you, Dor,” YN whispers, blowing her a kiss, before trekking out of the office with the exhausted little girl.

—

Harry can’t handle the rest of the day, wants to go home, and make amends with his wife which leads him to heading out only an hour after them.

He finds YN in the den with the baby monitor propped on the coffee table, she’s watching a horror movie with a smoothie in hand.

“Hi, m’heart,” Harry murmurs cautiously, loosening up his tie until it falls limp around his neck.

She glances over at him, sarcasm lacing her tone,“So you do know how to talk without yelling at me, hmm?”

His face falls, frowning, “Hey, lovie - don’t be like tha’. Y’gonna let me apologize?”

“Come scratch my back and I’ll hear you out,” She hums, keeping a serious face.

“Y’drive a hard bargain, m’heart. Show me y’tits,” Harry begins to smile, striding over and getting her no time before he’s pulling off her shirt and sports bra.

He sits down then gently lays her down on her tummy and she rests her head in his lap, cheek pressed against his thigh.

“I shouldn’t have done that, I wasn’t thinkin’. Now I’m worried she’s gonna hate me forever,” Harry mumbles, using his blunt nails to trace up and down her back.

“You’re her favorite person. She’ll always love you more than anything,” YN tells him seriously, arching when he scratches an extra itchy spot.

“I hope so. I love her more than anythin’. A little mixture of how much we love each other. How much we worked to get her,” He sighs softly.

—

YN dozed off and Harry tucks a blanket around her bare chest.

When the baby monitor alerts that Ivy had woke up after quite a long nap, he takes a deep breath before walking up the staircase to his fate.

He’s preparing himself for her to scream and cry when she sees her monster of a father because he’d scared her so horribly.

But his mini just widens her green eyes and he looks at his world with bated breath, waiting for the scream or tears.

Instead, she just dimples happily at her father, and squeals with excitement, “Daddy! Hi Daddy, miss you!”

And just like that….

They’re best friends again.

—-

Enjoy! Come talk to me!! 💕❣️💕❣️💕❣️

[expectingtofly]

First Day Jitters

established dean/cas, toddler!jack, dramatic parenting

1.7k

written for day 4 of @smiledean and @chocolatecakecas's follower celebration || prompt: baby!jack

“Say cheese.”

“CHEESE!” Jack beamed at the camera and Dean snapped a photo. Gripping his backpack straps, Jack twirled around as Dean lowered his phone. The school yard was already filling up with other kids Jack’s age, ready for their first day of school.

“Wait, take one of us together,” Cas said, crouching down by Jack. Jack threw his arms around Cas’ neck, nearly making him lose his balance. They both smiled at the camera, twin grins, and Dean couldn’t help a smile as he took their photo.

“Kindergarten!” Jack yelled as he released his grip on Cas.

“Alright, dude, remember,” Dean said, pocketing his phone. “No yelling in class.”

“And no powers,” Sam spoke up. “Most important rule of all.”

Jack nodded solemnly. “And if anyone picks on you…” Dean looked at him expectantly.

“Hit first, ask questions later!”

Cas rubbed at his forehead. “Dean, we’ve talked about this.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Tell us and we’ll beat them up for you.”

“Okay,” Jack said, kicking at loose gravel with his cowboy boots. He had picked out his outfit himself—boots with bee socks, jeans with sunflower patches, and a blue t-shirt with a green brontosaurus. Complete with a Barbie backpack, his outfit was truly… colorful. A lot for the eyes to handle at once.

Teachers milled around outside, and Cas said, “There’s Jack’s teacher.” He waved and she made a pained smile before quickly looking away.

Dean stifled a laugh at Cas’ hurt expression. “Guess we didn’t make the best first impression at Back to School night.”

“Who woulda known asking to lay out salt lines wouldn’t make you any friends,” Sam deadpanned.

“I still think we should’ve warded the school,” Dean protested.

“We’re trying to not get kicked out,” Sam shot back.

“Hey!” Jack said, getting their attention. He balled up his fists on his hips. “No fighting! This is an exciting day!”

“Yes, it is,” Cas agreed, giving them a pointed look. “And we are very excited for you.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Dean said, holding up his hands. A bell rang and a teacher opened the door to the school. “Think it’s time to go.”

Jack turned to watch the rush of kids to the school, his backpack nearly as large as he was. Had the school building always towered over him like that? Dean wondered.

“Exciting day,” Jack said to himself, sounding less sure.

“Hey,” Sam said, crouching by his side. “You’re gonna have fun, okay?”

Jack looked back at them and Dean nodded. “We’ll be waiting for you when school’s over.”

Jack took a deep breath, then smiled. “Okay.” He gave them all one last hug, and Dean couldn’t resist smoothing out his hair and checking the straps on his backpack.

When Jack let go of Cas, Cas grabbed his hand, holding tight. “You’ll pray to me, right? If anything happens?” Jack nodded, tugging a little to get away.

Cas held on. “And you’ll remember everything to tell us when you get home?”

“Yes, Dada.” He tugged again and Cas let him go.

Dean watched him run to join the kids lining up at the doors. The teachers counted them, and Jack started chattering with the boy standing in front of him wearing a dinosaur backpack.

“Fuck,” Dean swore under his breath, feeling his eyes prickle as the teachers started leading the kids inside. Jack skipped his way to the door, his backpack bouncing behind him. Right before he disappeared inside, he turned and waved.

Dean hastily blinked and swallowed hard, waving back.

The doors closed behind the kids and the yard was reduced to silence.

“Now what?” Cas asked, staring at the doors.

“Now we leave and don’t stalk the school,” Sam said. He grinned, looking at Dean. “Are you crying?”

“Shut up,” Dean said, wiping at his eyes brusquely. They started for their cars, though he couldn’t help looking back. Third window on the righthand side, second floor. Jack’s classroom. He’d cased the school last week, learned the exits and entrances. Still, standing outside, he felt helpless.

“Shit—he had his lunchbox, right?” he asked, hand pausing on the Impala’s driver's door. “And his pencil case, and—”

“You checked his backpack three times this morning,” Cas reminded him. “He has everything.”

“Right, right..."

“See you guys later for dinner?” Sam asked, heading to his own car.

“See ya then,” Dean agreed, getting in the driver’s seat. He paused before putting the key in the ignition, though, eyes drawn to the school doors.

“He’s going to do great,” Cas said, sounding a little too much like he was trying to convince himself.

Dean nodded. Jack had done great in preschool and they had spent all summer preparing him for the transition into kindergarten. Not that Jack needed much convincing to go. He loved school; it was more Dean and Cas who needed time to adjust to the idea.

A sniff drew his eyes to Cas, who was wiping at his eyes.

“Fuck, not you too,” Dean complained, feeling his own eyes well up again.

“His carseat,” Cas said simply, and Dean glanced at the backseat where Jack’s empty carseat sat.

“Shit,” he muttered, sinking in his seat and rubbing his eyes. “Thought we were pros at this after a year of preschool.”

“Guess not,” Cas said. He produced a tissue box out of thin air and handed one to Dean, then blew his own nose.

“Alright, enough,” Dean said, swiping at his nose and balling up the tissue. “Enough crying. He’s going to kindergarten, not off to war.”

Cas nodded and determined, Dean pulled out of the parking lot. He and Cas had taken the day off, which in hindsight was the wrong move because now they had too much time on their hands. Trying to distract themselves with errands didn’t help either because everything suddenly reminded them of Jack.

They went to the local gardening center, where Cas stroked the daisy petals with a soft look in his eyes. “I should buy some for Jack.”

And then the bakery: “We gotta have snacks when he comes home,” Dean told Cas, selecting a dozen donuts.

And, stopping at the street taco food truck downtown: “Jack’s eating lunch now,” Cas said, checking the time, the mournful look on his face not matching the delicious taco in his hand. “And then recess.”

“Hope he’s made friends,” Dean said, his own taco suddenly tasting flavorless.

“He will. He’s very friendly.” One tear dripped into his guacamole.

“For fuck’s sake,” Dean said, gathering up the remainders of his food. “Come on.”

The school yard was alive with kids yelling, laughing, swinging, playing hopscotch, and skipping rope. Dean idled close to the curb, scanning the yard through the fence. He was well aware that he and Cas looked extremely suspicious now, but he hoped the school parking pass hanging from the rearview mirror helped prove they weren't creeps. Just overly protective parents. Which was only a bit better.

“There he is!” Cas said, pointing out his window. Dean leaned over him to see Jack jumping over a hopscotch chalk drawing. One foot, two feet, one foot, two. Reaching the end, another kid high-fived him and Jack beamed. He cheered as someone else went through the course, then, the game abandoned, Jack ran with the others to the swings.

He swung higher and higher, cowboy boots kicking into the air. Dean was pretty sure he could hear his laughter rising above everyone else’s.

“We’re being stupid,” Dean realized. Cas looked at him. “He’s fine. He’s doing great. We don’t have to worry, we just gotta let him do his thing.”

Cas looked back at Jack, then took a deep breath. “You’re right.” The bell rang and Jack slowed his swing, jumped off, and joined the kids headed inside.

Determinedly facing forward, Cas said, “Alright. He’s got this.”

“We got this,” Dean amended, and Cas smiled.

“We got this.”

***

“DAD!” Jack ran full force to Dean, crashing against his legs. Before Dean could recover, Jack turned to Cas, who crouched down and took him into his arms, nearly getting knocked down in the process. He held onto him tightly, shutting his eyes as he buried his face into Jack’s shoulder.

“I missed you,” he said.

“I missed you too,” Jack said, extricating himself from his grip to hold up a slightly crinkled piece of paper. “I drew a brontosaurus!”

“That’s beautiful, Jack,” Cas said, admiring the drawing. “That’s going on the fridge.”

“Had a good day?” Dean asked. Around them, other kids streamed out of the school to waiting parents, and Jack nodded enthusiastically.

“The best!” He took Cas’ offered hand and told them about his day as they walked to the Impala. True to his word, he had remembered every detail, down to the amount of times he used the bathroom and the name of the lunch lady.

“And I got to swing at recess!” he told them, clambering into his carseat.

Dean and Cas caught each others’ eyes guiltily over the Impala’s roof. “I’m glad you had so much fun,” Cas told Jack, buckling him in.

“Thanks.” He swung his legs as they got into the front seat. “Did you have a good day?”

Cas glanced at Dean. There were plenty ways to answer that question. Looking back, though, seeing Jack bravely walking into school, being so independent, making friends…

"Missed you, but we managed,” Dean answered truthfully.

Cas smiled at Dean before twisting around to look at Jack. “We’re proud of you, Jack,” he told him, and Dean nodded.

“Did you cry?” Jack asked, eyes narrowing in suspicion. “Sam said you were going to cry. I didn’t cry.”

“Just a little,” Cas admitted. Dean snorted and Cas elbowed him. “Dean more than me.”

“Hey!” Dean protested.

Jack cackled. “I knew it!”

Dean shook his head, muttering about murdering Sam. Jack continued his recap of the day, and Dean resigned himself to getting stuck in after-school traffic for the next twenty minutes.

Leaning back in his seat, he grinned at Jack stumbling over his words in his excitement to share them. It was a good day.

[sushiburritonoms]

Untitled Library Din/Luke ficlet

@darkisrising asked for #25 on the AU short fic list and I wasn't short enough for the little Ask box reply thing. I have worked multiple positions in libraries public and private so this came really quickly to me. Sorry for the multiple inside jokes in here but I hope @sadiebwrites appreciates this!

--

Normally Luke enjoyed Wednesday mornings. The middle of the week was a quieter time for library staff; it was far enough away from the hell that was the weekend shifts that Luke could take a break and mentally prepare himself for Thursday’s Toddler Storytime and Friday’s afterschool crush.  There were usually only a few moms with small children hanging around the board books corner at this time and typically his page could handle their easy questions.  It was supposed to be a nice peaceful time for him.

“Heads up Luke, your DILF is back.”

Luke nearly dropped the stack of new picture books he was carrying out from tech services. “Geez Dak, careful with that cart! ….Wait my what now?”

The library page grinned as took the new books from Luke’s hands and put them on his cart. “Your DILF! He’s in Children’s with his kid. You know, the biker looking dude with the sweet ‘tash?”

“I’m sorry young Dak,” the reference librarian Obi-Wan said with his head still huddled over his Wednesday crossword puzzle, “but might I inquire what a ‘DILF’ is?”

“No you may not!” Luke moaned as he ran his hand over his face. “And please keep your voice down.”

“Sorry boss!” Chirped Dak, “but they’re the only two in the room right now, so you got him all to yourself!”

“Luke’s got who all to himself?” their archivist Tionne asked as she walked by with her empty coffee mug.

“The DILF from last week. He’s back with his toddler and it’s not even Thursday,” Dak reported breathlessly.

“Hmm, is this the dark haired patron with the 2 year old boy, just moved in from Nevada?” Obi-Wan said thoughtfully as he finally looked up. “The one you were all telling me about last week?”

Dak nodded. “The hot one, yeah!”

“Don’t you have books to shelve,” Luke hissed at his page.

“Oh that’s so sweet,” Tionne murmured, “you looked so smitten after they left last week too.”

“I did not!” Luke protested. “I looked like my usual non smitten, very busy self.”

“You spent a half hour with them and pulled every single amphibian book we had for the dad,” Dak reported, “the guy looked overwhelmed as he left.”

“I was doing my job,” Luke said through gritted teeth, “just like a certain somebody should be doing.”

“I’m going, I’m going,” Dak smirked as he started to push his cart out into the public area.

“Wait a minute,” Luke said suddenly as he remembered something. He peered at Dak’s bookcart and pulled a green and pink picture book out. “I think I’m gonna need this.”

Dak frowned. “You better not try to reshelve that yourself, I need to take stats if you use it.”

“I’m fully capable of logging usage stats myself,” said Luke.

“Yes, but will you?” Tionne asked as she sipped her coffee.

“No.” Obi-Wan and Dak replied for Luke.

“Why do I put up with any of you,” Luke muttered to himself.  “I’m leaving this conversation now.”

“Hmm,” said Obi-Wan. “Have fun with the ...DILF.”

“Oh my God, please never say that again,” Luke begged his mentor as he almost but not quite ran from the back room. The sound of Tionne and Dak laughing followed him out.

Sure enough as Luke walked towards the Children’s Room he could see there were only two patrons inside. The tiny toddler Grogu was absorbed in yet another book about frogs and snuggled inside of one of Luke’s red bean bag chairs, while his father sat awkwardly in a child sized wooden chair.  For a moment, Luke thought he might be able to sneak back to the reference desk without being spotted but nope. Little Grogu looked up and squealed in a non library friendly pitch as he spotted him.

“Shhh, mijo,” his father said gently. “We’re in a library, remember? Inside voice.”

“It’s alright,” Luke said as he stepped towards them. “There’s hardly anyone here at the moment.”

The father was startled and looked up at Luke. Then he unfolded himself from the tiny chair and stood up, looking strangely nervous. “Ah...hello.”

Luke put on his best friendly and not at all flirty children’s librarian face. “Hello again and ¡Hola, Grogu! ¿Cómo estás?”

The toddler squeaked from the beanbag chair in almost incomprehensible Spanish.

“Bien,” his father translated. “¿Y Usted?”

Luke’s spanish was limited to grade school level so he just went with “Muy bien, ¡gracias!” Then switched back to English. “Did we finish all of those books from last week?  What a great reader, excellente!”

Grogu’s dad looked up with his gorgeous brown eyes and chuckled, his deep voice sending a small bolt of electricity down Luke’s spine. “He wouldn’t put them down, he’s been obsessed with them all week. Especially the bilingual ones, thank you Mr. Skywalker.”

“Call me Luke,” he said with a smile. “You got a real reader there, señor…” Luke waited.

“Oh!” The man said. “Sorry, I guess I forgot to introduce myself last week. Din Djarin.”

“It’s nice to meet you Mr. Djarin.”

“Just Din is fine.” Din gave Luke a shy smile that sent more fluttering feelings throughout Luke’s cardigan covered chest.

“Din then.” He couldn’t help staring, fascinated by how the dingy lighting of their poorly funded library could still make Din’s eyes look amazing. Oh he had it bad--and for a patron! If the Head Librarian Jocasta Nu saw him, he’d get another damn lecture about professionalism and there would go his chances for the library to fund his trip to ALA in Chicago this year.

“¡Papi!” Grogu suddenly said. “¡Quiero libro!” He pointed to the picture book held in Luke’s arms.

Luke blinked. “Oh of course! Yes, this is for you.” He knelt down and handed Grogu the picture book. “This book is new, we just got it today and it’s about Frogs. It’s called ‘Kiki Kokí: La Leyenda Encantada del Coquí.” In English it was ‘The Legend of the Coquí Frog.’

Din looked down and gave Luke a huge smile. “Another bilingual book.”

“I try to order as many as I can,” Luke said solemnly. “I have some time, would you like for me to read it to him? It would be good to practice my Spanish in front of a more sympathetic audience.” The toddlers at Thursday’s Storytime were brutal critics.

“I--we--would love that,” Din said, giving Luke another amazing smile.

Oh god he loved Wednesday mornings, even if he was in so much trouble.

---

You can request a ficlet from the AU list here but I'll probably be slow in replying (I need to go do some actual work lol).

Edit: There's a part II here

[sultryvodka]

𝙘𝙤𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙜𝙚! 𝙖𝙤𝙩 𝙗𝙤𝙮𝙛𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙣𝙙 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙘𝙖𝙣𝙤𝙣𝙨 | 𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙩 1

𝙥𝙪𝙗𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙝 𝙙𝙖𝙩𝙚 - 𝙢𝙖𝙮 4𝙩𝙝

warnings: mild swearing, mildly suggestive (if you squint lol)

| armin - colt - eren - jean - porco |

armin arlert

• i think most, if not all of us, agree that armin looks like the type to get all flustered with PDA & shy away from his emotions --- HOWEVER.

• rather than being all over you, he finds himself most comfortable with holding your hand or having an arm wrapped around your shoulders.

• he wouldn't mind you being clingy though 👀

• would occasionally place a gentle peck on your forehead, cheeks & his personal favorite; the palm of your hands.

• you guys' dates would mostly end up being in a library, café & restaurants with a nice warm atmosphere.

• i bet he would be the kind of guy to take you to the beach whenever you're stressed out in hopes of calming you down.

• gets very defensive when his friends tease you, if a man could bark his friends away, it's armin arlert.

• this lad over here would establish a routine with you (with your consent & opinions ofc)

• mondays to friday mornings are centered on school, you guys do your own thing at school & walk you home while making sure to stop by a convenience store for snacks, assuming that you guys don't live together yet.

• both of you make it a point to check on one another to make sure you guys aren't wearing yourselves out.

• which leads me to the conclusion that your parents grew very fond of him & treats him more like their child

• when you guys are having a sleepover, this whole lowkey facade of his takes a 180 and the second you reach the bedroom he'll shower you with cuddles and kisses.

• you would watch movies (mostly rom-com just bc armin makes it work okay) tucked in a warm futon with popcorn and candies between you two.

• armin strikes me as a very studious guy and he does this to ensure you guys' future together ^-^

• all in all armin cares about you so much and he doesn't mind being vulnerable to you. he is your safe haven, and so are you to him.

colt grice

• okay can we talk about how this perfect man deserves some more attention

• colt, my man, gives me disney's prince florian vibes. the soft-spoken, kind-hearted, & just an absolute dream.

• he's the kind of guy to take you to the park, a greenhouse, & WORKSHOPS!!!

• given the idea that he is in fact a shy little baby, he is actually pretty active with you. every date you guys have is different. mans has a quest planned out for y'all.

• at school i think that you might be the one to initiate skinship. doesn't have to be kisses on the lips, it's more of gently trailing your index on the back of his hand or rubbing a hand on his forearm when he gets a little anxious.

• the type to peek through your classroom's door because bubba's too shy to ask someone to call for you 🤧

• colt, in my opinion, is very domestic in private, now don't get me wrong he may be a little too shy in public because he isn't used to it but i promise you he takes on the nurturing role of the relationship more than you are.

• he helps you with cleaning, folding your clothes, and god if you guys get periods, he's got a whole pouch in his locker just for you.

• he doesn't do it intentionally, he happens to know you so well that he notices the slight change in your moods & cravings.

• colt often reads a book while you guys cuddle during the afternoons once all the work is done, he'd make you tea or whatever you want. he hums a tune, probably from old disney movies that his brother falco used to enjoy as a kid.

• your parents are more invested in your marriage than you and colt combined.

• okay, now if you happen to have a baby or a toddler somewhere around the house, someone keep this man from turning into a putty.

• as much as colt acts prim and proper most of the time, he has his moments where he just wants to be an entire mess. perhaps sleeping past his usual waking time, indulging in more snacks than usual. you know, loosen up? yeah, that is a side of his that only YOU will ever be allowed to see.

• so yes you and colt would be labeled as the: put-together couple who needs a little bit of adventure every now and then.

eren jaeger

• i hope i don't ramble too long because i love him sm

• mr. loverboy over here is a simp for you, more than you are a simp for him! he is not afraid to show you off and shower you with flattery. now he does this because he feels so lucky to have you.

• he can be a little cliché (well maybe not as much as jean --- more on that later), like he'll randomly interrupt your vacant class with a gift box he put together, & a bouquet. yes. (carla helped him pick out flowers from her shop)

• he's the type to crash his lips with yours in the middle of campus when you achieve something or when he does, vice-versa. if he plays in one of your school's teams, there just HAS to be a bet that if he wins he gets a kiss... or more... or something else.

• dates with eren are usually random than planned. like it pops in his head and he'll inform you right away. he respects your vacancy too of course but if you aren't he might pout just a little bit.

• his ideal dates are prop shop dates, going to hotspots, amusement parks, antique shops! & maybe late night drinks at a quiet bar where you can both enjoy the solace of the atmosphere.

• on special occasions, he does plan ahead. usually it's something on the simpler side. candlelit dinners at home or somewhere you guys both enjoy dining.

• if eren's had a bad day, best believe that he will run to you for comfort. only you can help keep his aggressive response to anger at bay.

• if given the chance he would take you around the world, he's that passionate in making sure you live a little

• hear me out... you and eren would probably have the most philosophical conversations, just laying on your backs beneath his room's skylight? heavenly.

• eren can get a little poetic expressing himself & i believe that it's just wonderful. no one can describe their feelings as good as eren.

• his favorite look of yours is when your eyes beam with excitement, it usually happens when you spot something that you used to enjoy as a kid or when you're concentrating on one of your hobbies.

• he's a very touchy person too, his hands are usually on your stomach/waist, his kisses are random & they linger for awhile.

• when you're asleep next to him, it's his habit to solemnly watch you while his own drowsiness starts to take over.

• eren is passionate & sometimes people might take it the wrong way. one of the reasons eren loves you is because of the way you understand how he is. mutual growth for y'all ♡.

jean kirschtein

• jean is not afraid to pull a live performance for you, you see this man is at the top of the world when he's with you. from 80s hits to recent releases this man will blast his playlists catered for you.

• dates with jean are certainly spent on concerts, (him & eren bond over chase atlantic don't argue with me) music festivals, thrifting & late night drives!!!

• personally, i don't see jean as very gimmicky unless you guys are with his friends, he takes you very seriously and you are his top priority.

• at school i think he's definitely one of those flirtatious boyfriends. the kind who would not miss an opportunity to blow you a kiss or throw you a wink. he can be a bit of a dork, who wouldn't be? if he can get one of your rare smiles 🥺

• jean's the type to ask his pals for help when it comes to styling. not because he dresses badly but he's too focused on getting a flush on your cheeks. he's a hopeless romantic.

• if you guys happen to stay at home, he'll definitely serenade you with the amount of songs he had written recently just for you.

• since he bonds with sasha and connie, his jokes are either dad jokes or something that went viral on tiktok. he's the perfect balance of goofy and mature.

• if you aren't much of an active person he wouldn't mind being lazy with you and insist on a diy spa day at home.

• it's just netflix with a tub of ice cream and face masks on.

• since jean is quite the romantic, he would be into couple outfits or items that aren't cringey obv and probably doesn't mind using your perfume or vice-versa.

• jean probably asked you out during one of his gigs, offering you a single rose afterwards.

• he's the type to leave you random post-it notes if he visits your house. just random phrases or doodles. and boy does he pick you up every single day on his smexy motorcycle.

• he'll bring you coffee and breakfast to-go. this man's spoiling you baby.

• aside from that, i feel like jean would make you hand-made gifts with the help of his momma. he thinks it's sentimental when you make your presents because it's one of a kind.

• jean does all these things because he's 100% about you being a constant person in his life. he loves how he can be whoever he wants when he's around you, i'm certain you guys wouldn't have it any other way either.

porco galliard

• porco can be a dick if he wants to not to you though, this tough guy turns into putty just for you. he definitely loves being treated like a baby.

• at first he might come off as cold because he isn't used to the whole romance thing and he gets flustered with the slightest pecks so you might have to initiate at first.

• but once you guys get through the awkward phase this boy would straight up greet you with a passionate kiss and does not give a damn about everybody who witnessed it. he might even have a stupid smirk on his face.

• like eren, i feel like porco would be very passionate and intense. he doesn't say much but he definitely shows you just how much he adores you.

• speaking of friends (: reiner would tease him every second of the day. i bet he would team up with bertholdt to annoy this poor boy. annie and pieck's not much help either.

•whenever you're stressed, porco would run you a bath and give you massages very often. he'll sit on the edge of the tub while he runs his hand through your hair.

•his type of dates would be watching at a cinema or a drive-in, going to the mall just to look around,he's a simple guy.

•if you guys happen to have an argument, porco would distance himself for a few minutes to a few hours just to process the situation and avoid anything his aggression might cause.

•he knew that if he wanted you guys to work he needed to be better.

•he would come back though and hold you in his arms while you guys talk it out.

•i bet he's one of the aot characters who would be an athlete, so most days you'll end up watching him practice.

•overtime, porco would be more open to being intimate in public and post stories of you two just doing things most couples do.

•he's proud that you're his and he's all yours.

•porco is a great guy and he would do anything just to make you smile.

i hope you guys liked these~! let me know who you guys want to be in the second part. requests are open and as always, stay safe! - 🌸☁️

[kylermalloy]

Sam’s son is named for Dean, but he reminds Sam relentlessly of Jack.

As a toddler his hair fluctuates uncertain between light and dark blond. Sam’s heart squeezes at the sight of his honey golden waves.

He has a serious, studious gaze, eyes that drink in everything around him with cautious curiosity.

He grows a gap-toothed smile—gentle and sweet and achingly reminiscent.

He asks questions—deep, soul-bending questions only a child’s mind can form—after careful contemplation. When Sam answers (however bewildered) he chews on his father’s reply, brow knitted in thought, before nodding his acceptance.

He looks at Sam with a boundless yet familiar trust, and Sam nearly cries.

Sam does not hide his past from his child. The bones of his new life have formed around the absence of his old one. Around the people now absent from him.

They are inescapable. Sam is thankful for this.

Dean knows who his namesake is. Everything he did, how much Sam loved him. (Sam makes clear to his son that he is not a replacement.)

He knows there were others, too. Heavenly beings. But on this Sam never goes into detail.

Sam doesn’t tell his son angels are watching over you. They don’t pray, don’t discuss any concrete form of faith. He amends his mother’s adage to someone is watching over you.

He blinks curiously up at Sam. You mean uncle Dean?

Sam smiles. I’m sure he is. Yeah.

He prays sometimes. He can’t help it. Privately, when the loneliness claws its way into his throat and sits, waiting, for him to thoughtlessly say something to his dead brother.

(Dead brother. It still sounds impossible.)

When the hole in his heart gnaws painfully at the love he’s seeded and carefully grown from grief and resolve and emptiness, he talks to Jack.

Talks to him like he’s popped in for a drink. Tells him about the day, about what Dean’s learned or done, about what he’s feeling.

There aren’t pictures of Jack around the house. Sam holds the memory of his first child close, determined to not let this grief infect his house.

Jack isn’t dead, after all. It makes for a very strange, specific kind of mourning—not one easily brought up in a grief counseling session. (How do you explain that your three-year-old child became God?)

He was here for a little while, but now he’s not. Sam has to go on without him.

(He fears, irrationally, that Dean will grow up and leave just as quickly.)

Dean is ten the first time he catches a glimpse of Jack—a picture on one of Sam’s old phones. Hey, I know him.

Sam is taken aback. You do?

His son nods solemnly. I dream about him sometimes, I guess.

A weight slams into Sam’s chest like a wrecking ball.

Not bad dreams. It’s like he’s watching out for me. Sometimes he’ll reach out and take my hand.

It feels like…he’s my friend.

Jack’s innocent, impish grins shines up at him from the phone screen.

Dad, are you okay?

For Sam has stumbled backward into a chair, eyes quickly filling with tears.

His son’s worried eyes morph into pale blue, his voice deepening as he repeats the question. Sam, are you okay?

(Jack never called him dad. Only father, only that once.)

Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay.

Dean’s eyes are careful and hesitant, looking down at the old picture. Do you know him? Who is he?

The weight on Sam’s chest focuses, taking the shape of a hand over his heart. I’m as close as this.

He passes his hand over his eyes before reaching out to his son. C’mere, kiddo.

His new life is built on a graveyard, around the empty space left by his brother, the ghost of his kid.

He never knew his sons played together in the ruins.

I want to tell you a story about a boy named Jack—and what he taught me about being a father.

[katblu42]

Passing the Big Brother Baton pt 3

Part 3 is here! It's a little longer than the other parts, so I've put in a cut for length. It turns out John has a lot to say about being a big brother!

You can read the whole thing on AO3.

Gordon had just turned four, and with a new baby on the way the family had inevitably been throwing around the “big boy now” comments. Lucy had been careful to involve Gordon in the necessary process of setting up the nursery furniture in the room he would soon be sharing, worried that he might resent the impending invasion. Unlike any of the other boys, Gordon seemed reluctant to step into big brotherhood. For over a week now he’d been very clingy, wanting cuddles with Mom on the flimsiest of pretexts, and needing Mommy’s (or, to a lesser extent Daddy’s) help with tasks that he had more than mastered.

Lucy was wondering what challenges today would bring when there was a commotion in the kitchen – a clattering of kid-safe plates, cups and bowls as though someone was rummaging through cupboards and spilling items out onto countertop and floor tiles. Gordon had just gone in there. With a sigh, Lucy heaved herself to her feet to see what was happening. Before she reached the kitchen door the sound of John’s voice prompted her to stop and listen.

“What are you looking for?” the eight-and-a-half year-old enquired with a patience Lucy was sure she could not have mustered.

“My sippy cup,” came the simple reply, accompanied by more rummaging and clattering.

“Why?”

“For my juice.” Lucy could hear the exasperated sigh in Gordon’s voice suggesting this was the most obvious thing in the world, despite him not needing his sippy cup in well over a year.

“I was going to pour yours into a cup just like mine.”

Lucy was relieved her perceptive third child had been smart enough to avoid the term “big-boy cup.” The use of similar terms had been enough to induce tantrums over the last few days.

There were footsteps and a cupboard door squeaked open as John apparently went and retrieved Gordon’s sippy cup from the corner cupboard used to store all the retired-until-further-notice toddler items. Juice was poured, the lid popped on and the cup was slid across the countertop, presumably towards Gordon who had more than likely climbed up to sit on a stool opposite his big brother.

“You know, just because you won’t be the littlest anymore doesn’t mean Mom and Dad don’t love you just as much as they always did.”

Lucy was not surprised John was able to pinpoint the problem behind Gordon’s regressive behaviour, but she was impressed that he was able to articulate it so well, and that he was willing to address the issue head on. There was no answer from Gordon, and she found herself imagining him trying to process what John had said, probably with head slightly tilted to one side and a squinty frown.

“I was the littlest before you were born,” John said solemnly, and perhaps with a hint of nostalgia.

“Really?” The shock in Gordon’s voice had Lucy visualising his russet eyes widening. “But you’ve always been big!”

John laughed. A quiet, contented, closed mouth, chesty sound that Lucy always loved to hear.

“That’s because I’m older than you. And I’ll always be older than you. I’ll always be your big brother, just like Scott and Virgil will always be my big brothers, and all of us, including you, will be the baby’s big brother.”

“I don’t wanna be a big brother.” Lucy heard the pout, and the crossed arms in Gordon’s words.

“Why not?”

“Don’t wanna be sponstible. Wanna do fun stuff with Mommy, like before. Just me and Mommy. No baby.”

Lucy felt the prickle of tears in the corners of her eyes. John let out a sigh.

“Yeah, it kinda sucks that you don’t really get to choose to be a big brother. It just happens and you’re stuck with it. And it is a big responsibility. You need to look out for the little one, make sure they’re safe – like when I had to stop you from crashing the toboggan into the garage. You have to help them with things they can’t do yet – like I just helped you get a drink of juice. But being a big brother can be pretty cool. If you help mum look after the baby you’ll still get to spend time with her too. And you can play with the baby sometimes. Then when he gets bigger you get to teach him stuff.”

“Like what?”

“Well, the baby isn’t going to know anything about the world, or how things work, or being a Tracy. He’ll watch you and learn from you – even when you don’t know it. And when he’s old enough you’ll get to answer all his questions – like I answered when you asked me about how tadpoles turn into frogs. You’ll be able to teach him important things like where all the best hiding spots in the house are, and not to steal grandma’s cookies. Stuff Mom and Dad might not know, and stuff they might be too busy to help with – that’s the kind of big brother stuff you’ll need to do.”

There was a pause, and a soft shuffling and rustling of clothing. Lucy thought John might have moved around the kitchen counter so he could put an arm around his little brother, or a comforting hand on his back with a gentle rub.

“You don’t have to do it all yourself. That’s the best part about being a Tracy – we stick together, we all help each other. You have three big brothers you can come to whenever you need to.”

Lucy wished she could see her boys at that moment, barely holding herself back from entering the kitchen just to see their expressions, to see the demonstration of exactly the big brotherly love John was speaking of. She could hear the gentle scrape and clacking of cups that suggested the boys were sipping their drinks, perhaps even toasting the moment, before cups were tapped back down onto the countertop.

“I’ll tell you a secret,” she heard John quietly continue. “I wasn’t sure how I felt about being a big brother at first.” This was news to Lucy, and she wondered if she had missed something that she should have seen four years ago. “But as soon as Mom and Dad brought you home I knew I would do anything to make you happy and keep you safe.”

“You didn’t want to be my big brother?” The teariness in Gordon’s voice was heart-wrenching.

“I changed my mind really quick. I found out having a little brother is the best feeling in the world. There’s nothing like the way you looked up at me when I held you in my arms, or the feel of your tiny hand wrapped around my finger. And you were fun to play with, especially when you were big enough to laugh.”

“I’m still fun to play with!” Gordon insisted, then doubt crept into his voice. “Will you still play with me after the baby’s born?”

“Of course.” John laughed again, this time a bright chuckle.

It seemed the serious conversation was over and the long silence prompted Lucy to begin to withdraw. As she walked away she heard the beginnings of a whole new discussion.

“Are we sure the baby’s gonna be a boy?” Gordon asked

“Yeah, Mom and Dad and the doctor are all pretty sure. Why?”

“Do you think I could ask if we could have a sister instead?”

As curious as Lucy was to hear how John would handle that one, she kept walking, unable to stop the broad smile spreading across her face, and the swelling of absolute love in her heart for all her boys.

[frostbitepandaaaaa]

Nine Minutes and Then Some

Missing scene drabbles

Tagging @today-in-fic

~1,100 words

Rated T (for now)

Episode: Deep Throat

Read below or on ao3

“So, how’s your new partner, Mulder?” Byers asks over his shoulder.

Frohike picks his feet up off the table and leans closer, beady eyes convex and bug-like under his thick glasses. “Oh, yeah there G-man... is there an Agent Arctor that we should consider New-Pathing?”

“Settle down, Frohike,” Mulder mumbles, flipping the page of the September 1991 issue of the The Lone Gunman. It was on cell towers and what, exactly, they may be hiding under their cement anchors nestled in corn fields and mountain tops across the country. There may have been an op-ed about the precipitous decline in sperm count and the “corresponding” increase of said towers that he had read twice. “You make it seem like she’s some evil crony who needs to be put down like a Replicant—“

“Wrong Philip K. Dick there, Mulder,” Langly interrupts, tossing his rainbow Slinky from hand to hand from his perch on the run-down couch with the enthusiasm of a toddler.

“She?” Frohike questions, little caterpillar eyebrows almost on the top of his head.

“Agent Arctor was a victim,” Byers lectures, unfazed, not even turning from his worried pecking at his keyboard. The newest edition of The Lone Gunman was almost ready for print. “If anyone actually read ‘A Scanner Darkly’ you’d know that.”

“Will you shut up?” Frohike requests, gloved hands spread in protest at Byers’ disinterested back. He leans forward and flicks his finger into the spine of the magazine Mulder was pretending to read. “What’s this, Mulder? A lady partner?”

“Frohike, have you ever considered being less of a creep?” His eyes scan over an ad for a voice modulator. It’s odd to think that the Gunmen participated in something as banal and capitalistic as advertising money, but someone had to pay for the laboratory of subterfuge.

“Ah, come on now, Mulder, give Frohike a break: a mole can’t help it’s nature,” Langly quips, growing bored with his Slinky and going for the Rubik’s cube instead.

“Very funny,” Frohike grumbles.

“My new partner is a medical doctor, Frohike,” Mulder offers, knowing the little troll wouldn’t let up until he spills the beans. “She’s an inch taller than you and could kick your ass.”

Frohike raises his eyebrows again. “Sounds hot.”

“A medical doctor?” Byers asks, finally turning away from the keyboard, the lenses in his glasses glowing blue from the monitor. “That seems... strange.”

Mulder inclines his head, agreeing. “She’s also something of a physicist.”

Byers frowns, impressed and skeptical. It reminds him of Scully. “Sounds...”

“Hot,” Frohike reiterates.

“Useful,” Langly provides, elbows on his knees, bottom lip over his teeth. Mulder is inclined to agree but he doesn’t want to tell them that just yet. Besides, ‘useful’ sounds... mechanical. Inorganic and utilitarian, like a tuning fork or an x-ray machine. Scully is more alive than anyone he’s met in a long, long time. She is... an ally. A comrade in arms.

Langly turns down the reel-to-reel, pumping out Iggy Pop. “Why would they assign a scientist to the X-Files?”

“Sounds fishy to me,” Frohike claims.

“Sounds like a spy,” Byers corrects solemnly. “What do you think, Mulder? Do you trust her?”

“How can he trust her, Byers, he’s only known her for what? A week?” Langly protests.

Byers looks outraged on his behalf, staring at Langly with pure disbelief. “Mulder is one of the best profilers in the country. I trust his ability to make a sound judgement.”

“He is friends with us,” Frohike observes proudly, draining his beer and belching in satisfaction.

“I do trust her,” Mulder confesses.

“Uh oh,” Langly says, shaking his head.

“Agreed,” Frohike announces.

“Not good,” Byers confirms.

“What?” Mulder demands, now perhaps a bit offended. He lifts a finger, moves it in a circle, indicating the three of them, regarding him with a kind of weird, affectionate concern. “What’s this concerned dad act for?”

“You got it bad,” Frohike says, waving a hand at him as if that was all the evidence he needed.

“It’s not like that.”

“Then what is it?” Byers asks. “I mean... how do you trust her already?”

“Well, for one thing, you can be attracted to someone and not trust them at the same time.”

“There it is!” Langly declares, positively gleeful.

Mulder shakes his head, spreading his hands in wonderment. “Byers, didn’t you just claim that I was the best profiler in the country?”

“So modest,” Langly sasses, popping open another Shiner with his trusty hula girl bottle opener. He leans a socked foot on the edge of the table.

“You’re crushing hard, dude,” Frohike insists.

“No, I’m not. It’s not—“ He huffs, shakes his head. “Agent Scully is an attractive woman, but I’m not going to sit here and let you three assholes talk about her like that’s all she is. She’s a professional, a scientist and she’s my partner—“

“Oh, it’s worse than we thought, fellas,” Langly laments.

“Will you three shut the fuck up?” Mulder snaps, patience wearing thin.

“Someone’s getting defensive,” Frohike says with a shit-eating grin

“Defensiveness is a sign of guilt,” Byers offers unnecessarily.

“What makes you so sure this Agent Scully isn’t a spy?” Frohike asks, all business now. “We can do a search for you, do some snooping.”

“No snooping.”

“You’re no fun,” Langly pouts.

“I swear to god, if you creeps do a search on her—“

“Okay, okay, settle down, Romeo.” Frohike passes him a beer in conciliation. “We’re just looking out for you.”

He sighs, settles back into the cracked leather couch as his fingers curl over the cold neck of the bottle. He remembers her clutching her gun over the roof an unfamiliar car. A car she had commandeered like a swashbuckler boarding a merchant ship. He remembers thinking, ridiculously, that he was glad to see her, teeth gritted and staring down a half-dozen MPs as he stumbled to to her in some strange farce of a hostage exchange.

He doesn’t remember what he saw out on that sun-baked, wind-blasted runway, but he remembers her, small but steely and unwilling to allow anyone to be at peace until he was returned to her.

There’s something about the memory he feels he can’t tell them. It feels too... personal, too damning.

Plus, he doesn’t owe these cretins anything, even if they’re his best friends.

“Look, I can handle myself,” Mulder assures them. “You’re just going to have to trust me on this.”

The Gunmen shift away, resigned and mostly unconvinced, which annoys him more than it really should.

“I bet she’s hot,” Frohike asserts once again and Mulder throws the magazine laying forgotten in his lap at him. It hits him square in forehead and the matter is settled, for now.

[eleanor-devil]

Boruto: Sacrifices [Remade] | Chap.16 - Saudade

Written by: Eleanor-Devil & @mirage-05​​

Prologue | Chap.1 | Chap.2 | Chap.3 | Chap.4 | Chap.5 | Chap.6 | Chap.7 | Chap.8 | Chap.9 | Chap. 10 | Chap.11 | Chap.12 | Chap.13 | Chap.14 | Chap.15 | Chap.16 - You’re here

... It had been a long day in the lab, and he really, really lacked the energy or will to deal with anything else at the moment - which was saying something, seeing that he was an immortal. Ironic that right now, he felt like he could drop dead with fatigue. And it was just his luck that the Taka and Log were all out on some errands. He turned on the light as he entered his room, and was surprised to hear a small squeak. His eyes searching for the source of the voice, he noticed a fit of tousled blue hair poking out of the comforters and sighed. "Mitsuki?" he said in an exasperated tone. Little by little, the toddler peeked out of the blankets, allowing his eyes and nose out only. "Daddy...?" his childish voice sounded in the room. His big, round golden eyes were shining, showing the sannin that the child had most likely been crying or at least whimpering. The sannin sighed again. He could handle anything - be it a potentially dangerous lab experiment, a threat... He even got used to his son pulling - what was it that Suigetsu said - puppy eyes at him but when the toddler cried, which was not very often, he simply did not know what to do. Log, as a child, never gave him such troubles. "What is it?" Mitsuki frowned, the sad look still there. "I had a nightmare..." he whispered before averting his eyes from his father, it had not been the first time he had a nightmare and each time his father had always told him he had to be tough... But this one had really, really scared him. He wished at least Log was there, he was stronger whenever onii-chan was nearby. "I couldn't go back to sleep..." The look in the older man's eyes hardened slightly. In the years he had spent with the boy, five years to be exact, he was still not sure how he defined his parental role - something Karin always dropped in snarky remarks about, how by this rate, he will only get to learn it when Mitsuki was no longer there. In any case, intimate contact was off limits, and the toddler knew that perfectly. The sannin had never been the one who comforted the child out of a nightmare.

Just his luck... "You cannot stay here." He said bluntly, not harshly but enough to get the meaning through. "I am tired, I need to sleep. We can talk about this tomorrow." "But I can't go back to sleep..." the already childish voice sounded even more childish now. It would only be a matter of time before he pulled out the puppy eyes trick. He was even already pushing out his lower lip in a pout. "I promise I'll be quiet, I'll let you sleep..." The man raised an eyebrow, not buying. "No." He said curtly, finding it only very slightly amusing that the child had already begun the usual drill which worked on his subordinates. Such interesting creatures indeed, children. "Come now, I will take you to your bed." Well, at least he could do that much. Without giving the little one a chance to reply, he strode over to the bed and picked him up, striding out of the room. Mitsuki remained quiet the whole way back to his room. He had failed to have his father fall for his typical trick... Orochimaru set him back on his bed and covered him with the warm blankets. Turning off the light, the Sannin closed his son's bedroom door... but as soon as he did it... Mitsuki threw the blankets and sheets away and made his way off his bed. The sannin yawned as he entered the room. He didn't even notice the soft patter of footsteps. When he opened his eyes... The boy was peeking at him from the bed once again, only his eyes visible, watching his father carefully. "A no is a no, child. You cannot stay here." Once again he picked the boy, carrying him over to his room. He thought for a minute whether or not to lock the door, but that would probably be pushing it too far. Even he knew not to lock in a frightened toddler, after all. But... luck certainly hated him that night. As he again made his way back to his room, this time he made sure to look back a few times to make sure Mitsuki was not following him. No sign of him. Good. He hoped he had learned to take a no for an answer. But as he opened the door again... there he was, peeking outside of his bed. The sannin could not believe his eyes. Had his son learned some sort of teleportation technique? At the age of just five? Although he had to be quite the prodigy - scratch that - a miracle to be able to do that. Then he noticed a slight opening on the wall behind the bed, and his eyes narrowed a little. Using his own tricks against him, huh? The kid was intelligent. He looked into the golden eyes, his eyes, as the child just gazed up at him innocently. Maybe too innocently. "You are not going to give up, are you?" Mitsuki uncovered his mouth that had been hiding behind the warm blanket and gave his father a big smile and the cutest look he could do. "Can I stay...?" By this point, he had begun wondering what the point was. It was just one night... The child could just sleep by his side, cuddling, of course, out of the question. "Fine. Just for this once..." He stopped mid-sentence when he saw the toddler had already fallen fast asleep. Was that really all he waited for? Just reassurance? Such interesting creatures, indeed. ... He didn't really expect to wake up to find himself... almost in a peaceful state of mind. Content, relaxed... Feeling a small bundle pressed against him, he looked down... Only to find his son cuddled in his arms, sleeping soundly. His unconscious mind was certain that it was not just the child who cuddled to him. He had been guilty in that part too. After a moment of hesitation, he slowly raised his hand and put it on Mitsuki's hair, rubbing his head gently, careful not to wake him up. He need not see that. This was just enough... ... He had not realized that he had fallen asleep... As he opened his eyes to the darkened room, almost instinctively... The sannin's arms reached forward, as if to once again hold on to the child... But all he managed to grab was thin air. Sighing, Orochimaru brought a hand over his eyes. It would turn out that Karin was not really wrong about her predicament after all... ... Boruto mumbled to himself, trying to protect his eyes from the onslaught of sunlight through the opening in the curtains. For a moment, he blinked in the blinding light, trying to remember... His eyes shot wide open as he did. He tried to straighten up immediately, but his body felt so heavy... he couldn't even move a muscle. He only noticed someone was beside him when the person finally moved. "Boruto...?" Tears started falling from the blond's eyes as he recognized his mother's voice, and the warmth, concern in it... It spoke to the warm side of him, the side that yearned for reassurance... Straightening up slightly, Hinata was quick to take her son in her arms. "It's gonna be okay, baby... It was just a dream..." "M-mom..." his voice came out trembling. "S-something happened... I know it, I can feel it... We need to go to the hospital..." "Boruto..." the woman said gently, her eyes sad. "You just had a nightmare..." "No, mom, it wasn't just a nightmare!" his voice had become panicky. "He thanked me, he was saying goodbye, and I swear, h-he..." "Boruto, we would’ve been informed..." "No, we wouldn't!" the blond's voice had finally risen. "Do you seriously believe they would just announce this over a phone call? Please, let's just go..." "But sweetie, it's just six am..." "I don't care!" "How about we do it like this?" came a voice from the doorway and both the mother and the son turned over to see Naruto, who raised up his cell phone to show it to his son. "I will call your aunt Sakura and check up with her." Boruto gulped, it was apparent that he wanted to say something... But he just nodded, not looking into either of their eyes. With this, Naruto touched the screen of his phone a few times before putting it up to his ear. "Hello? Sakura-chan, good morning." There was a pause. "Yeah, I called to ask if there were any changes with Mitsuki...?" The pauses felt way too long for the child, he was basically trying with all his might to not jump from the bed and walk right over to his dad right now. "I see... yeah... yeah, Boruto had a nightmare too..." he sighed. "Yeah, okay. Thank you very much. See you later." Boruto didn't lose a second as soon as the call ended. "Well?" "He is okay, Boruto." He was looking squarely in his eyes now, so that he could see his sincerity. "He is sleeping. And of course, you can visit him any time after nine am." "But..." "Please, Boruto..." Naruto sounded really tired. "Trust me on this one. You will see him, but not this early..." "You promise...?" the young blond asked, and his voice sounded so tiny, so scared... Naruto closed his eyes for a moment before reopening them and taking big steps into the room, finally sitting down on the bed and placing his hands on his shoulders. "I promise." he said. "Please... try to rest for a while." The boy finally nodded meekly and snuggled closer to his mother, who pulled the blanket over him. The hokage was just about to get out of the room when Boruto's voice stopped him. "Dad...?" He turned to look at his son. "Can you come home early... just for today...? Please...?" He didn't even have to think. He nodded with a soft smile. "I will." ... Himawari was wearing her sandals to get out, her mind still on her older brother and his screams... But she was too scared to ask... too scared of what she might find out... "Himawari?" She turned to look at her mother, her wide, blue eyes curious. "Yeah mama?" Hinata came to stand in front of her, and put her hand on her young daughter's shoulders. "Can you please take your brother out so he gets some fresh air too? It would really do him some good..." The young girl nodded solemnly. "I will, mama. I will take care of onii-chan." she smiled brightly. "I know you will." her mother said with a soft smile. "Listen, Hima... your brother is going through a very hard time... so we have to stick together and show him that we are always here for him, okay?" "Like his guardian angel." Hinata laughed light-heartedly and ruffled her hair. "Like his guardian angel. So it is your task to protect him with all the positivity you have." "I will." the eight-year-old said again, and without further ado, she had taken off her sandals and was rushing back into the house, calling for Boruto. Hinata just kept gazing after her for a while... ... "And you know what was even better? Auntie told me it was okay that I knocked out that stupid little boy!" When her brother didn't give any kind of reaction, Himawari pouted. She had been hoping that if anything, at least they could bond over their furiousness about her ignorant friends. Normally, her brother wouldn't miss that chance and would talk and laugh with her, even if to just humor her... "Onii-chan..." she tried again. "You have training today, don't you? Can I come over and watch too?" Again, he didn't say or do anything. The girl huffed. "I threw away your favorite t-shirt because I splashed ketchup all over it. On purpose." Silence... " And I actually killed that boy and buried him in the backyard. Don't tell mom and dad, okay?" Maybe it was her nonsense blabbering, but Boruto finally managed to utter a barely audible, "What...?" "It's about time!" "Himawari..." "Did you hear about two nights before?" It was then... when they heard the distinct voice that Boruto finally reacted. His head turned to the direction of the voice, causing his sister to follow his gaze. "Yeah, I heard he was pretty beat up." "Not just that, man, I heard he almost died." "Tch... I knew he was a coward but being THAT weak on top of it..." "What are you talking about?!" with that voice, the talking group turned back to look at them. Seeing her brother's blank expression turning into an agitated one, and how his hands, which were now in fists, were shaking, the young girl couldn't keep it under control anymore. Some of the children in the group took a step back. "Okay, let's move it. It's them..." "No." Boruto's voice was harsh and devoid of emotions. "You got something to say? Get over with it." There was a moment of silence. "Our condolences." Seemingly the gang leader, none other than Ichiro, finally said smirking, clearly mocking him. Some of those in the group snickered. That almost... almost did it for the blond... But he couldn’t help but remember that it was his fight with this boy that was the final straw for Mitsuki. That and the presence of his younger sister forced him to gulp down his anger. "Mind your own business..." That seemed to have surprised them. "What is it? Not feeling much up to defend your weak, no-good friend?" "You are not even worth the time I spend here." "Oh yeah? Sorry we keep you from running to your girlfriend. I heard there was no ho-" BAM! A loud, slamming noise cut into their taunting and even the Uzumaki siblings had to turn around to see who the newcomer was. Nara Karura, Shikadai's younger sister, supported her elbow on her fan and leaned on it a bit, dislike highly apparent on her features as she glared at the group. "Are you really sure you want to complete that sentence? Next time I won't be this lenient." Standing next to her was Yamanaka Inochi, Inojin's sister and her best friend. She looked at the Uzumaki siblings. "You guys okay?" "Yes we are." Himawari said, glaring at the group of bullies herself. "Are you telling me that you, the almighty son of Hokage, are hiding behind some girls now?" Ichiro said, his voice dripping of sarcasm. Before any of them said anything else, there was a blur of color and a sudden swishing sound. The boy looked at Inochi with big, surprised eyes while she returned back to his friends. "I would watch out for my pants if I were you." the girl said haughtily. Not sure of what she meant, the boy glanced down for a moment and, blushing furiously, bent down quickly to gather up his pants - and the cut-through belt. With a smirk, Inochi put her short sword back in its sheath. "We might be just girls, but these girls will kick your..." she tilted her head to a side, "smiley-covered ass." If that was possible, the black haired boy blushed even more, while it was clear that those around him were trying their best not to burst out laughing. "C'mon, we are going back." "Aww, are you being intimidated by some girls now?" the Yamanaka cooed, mocking him. "Come back anytime for more, cutie." Karura said, winking. Grumbling, the boy led his friends away. "Some of those Sarutobi jerks... I swear I can't stand them." the Nara declared. "Thank you." Himawari said politely to the older girls. "We... Onii-chan...?" Boruto had started walking away in the opposite direction. At his sister's voice, he stopped for a moment, then slowly turned back. "I'm sorry... She's right, thank you..." "Boruto..." Karura started with a concerned expression. "I heard from Shikadai... I'm so sorry about-" "Karura." Boruto didn't say anything else, but the momentary flickering of his eyes to Himawari told the brown eyed girl what he didn't convey. She sighed. "Yeah... We just wanted you to know that we are all here." "Ditto." Inochi said with a small smile. The blond also gave them the ghost of a smile before he turned and started walking away. After a moment of pause, Himawari started following him. ... "Mama?" Hearing Himawari's voice, Hinata turned around to face her daughter, and did a double take. She knew her daughter was concerned about Boruto, but her expression now was something more than concern, something close to... being frightened... "Yes dear?" "What is wrong... with everyone? Onii-chan wouldn't tell me anything... but we came across some bullies and they told him some mean things..." The woman tensed at her daughter's words. "What kind of things?" Himawari took a deep breath, then looked directly into her eyes. "Who is in the hospital?" The woman felt her heart skip a beat. The look in her eyes saddened. "Sweetie, it's nothing you have to worry about..." "Mom, I'm not a kid anymore!" the young girl said stubbornly, puffing out her cheeks. "Those kids were saying some bad things, so I thought they were talking about some terrible person but that wouldn't explain why onii-chan is so sad all the time! He even skipped training..." "Their sensei called the training off this morning..." the woman said, avoiding her question. But Himawari was a clever child, she had always been... her eyes turned sad too as she looked at her mother. "Mom... is it about Mitsu-nii?" Hinata sighed. "You will know when it's the right time..." "But aunt Hanabi told me that too! When is the right time?" she asked again, and her tone was becoming impatient. "Just tell me..." "Please, baby. Not now." "Was he sick? Is he gonna be alright?" "Himawari." Her tone was not harsh, but it was clear that she was finishing the conversation then and there. Hurt despite herself, Himawari grumbled a "Fine!" and turned her back to go. It didn't matter. She would find out anyway. ... No one gave him a second glance as he walked into the hospital. Boruto was very quiet as he made his way into his friend's room. There were no medics inside, which really suited him more than he could admit... He closed the door without a sound, as if he was afraid to make a noise, afraid to disturb his friend... He almost laughed at the idea. Since when had he been such a considerate person? If he was to be honest with himself, he had always been the brattiest, the one and only trouble maker... Of course Sarada was there to put him in line from time to time, but it was very seldom that he would listen to her. Most of the time, it turned into a competition before they knew it. No, the one person who was always able to curb his sometimes insane tendencies was Mitsuki... He tried not to gulp, trying to force his emotions back down, and after a minute, held his head high. "I know what you would say if you saw me right now." he said defiantly, managing to control the trembling. "What am I doing here, right? I shouldn't be so worried, I shouldn't come and go as I please... I shouldn't let some people get to me so easily..." His hand had unconsciously turned into a fist. "Huh... because you are one to talk... I kept telling you that you shouldn't listen to those morons... l-look how it ended up..." He closed his eyes and turned his head to a side, teeth gritted... No matter how hard he tried... It hurt... It hurt so much... After a minute... he opened his eyes and brushed the back of his hand over them. "I'm not even here for this... I just wanted to tell you..." His gaze drifted back to his friend. "Look... Mitsuki... You can't leave us, okay...? I know that it might not seem like this right now, but... lots of people would miss you..." His voice started failing. "I-I mean... you're my best friend, you can't leave me like this...! Who would I tell about my pranks if you weren't around...? No one else listens to me like you do..." That was when he couldn't hold it any longer... "So... you baka... you better hold on in there and don't give up on me... Because I'll never forgive you if you do..." He started shaking as more tears rolled down. "And I'll kick your soul's ass back into your body if I have to..." He was tired... he was tired to play the big, tough boy who wouldn't be fazed by anything... He just... wanted, needed this breakdown... He didn't hear the slow opening of the door behind him as he walked forward to the bed, hand reaching forward to gently hold on to the blue haired boy's hand. "Just... please wake up already... We all need you so much..." Before he could even finish, he heard a loud gasp behind and turned around abruptly... His world pretty much came to a stop when he saw his younger sister, her eyes widened and a frightened and sad look in them... looking past him towards the bed... The blond felt his pulse quickening and his breath turning into gasps as he just stood there, at a loss of what to do or say... "Wh-wha..." the younger Uzumaki began, then gulped as tears filled into her eyes. "What happened to Mitsu-nii...?" Boruto was surprised that he still somehow managed to find his voice. "Himawari..." he began feebly. "Why is he like this? Who did this to him?!" her voice was becoming hysteric, and the elder felt even more lost as he just didn't know what to say... how to comfort her... "Boruto? Himawari?" At that moment, he was sure he had never been more grateful in his entire life to have heard another voice. Sakura was on the doorway and was looking at them with something akin to... sympathy? pity? The blond felt the need to explain himself. "I-I didn't know she followed me..." Sakura sighed before she started walking inside. "I can see that..." "Aunt Sakura...?" Himawari mumbled in a tiny voice, to which the pink haired medic gave her a soft smile. "It's gonna be alright, Himawari. Mitsuki is just sleeping for now, he just needed rest for a while..." "But why... what happened to him...?" The soft look in her eyes intensified as the woman's eyes drifted towards the unconscious child. "He had been a very, very brave boy... He protected all of us from some really bad people, but unfortunately, they hurt him..." "Didn't anyone help him...?" Boruto gulped at her question, he had to look away... the Uchiha was silent for a moment too. "I'm sorry sweetie... His voice didn't reach us... And so we couldn't reach him in time..." The young girl had started shaking, no matter how Sakura tried to ease her up to this, it was still hard for her... "Is..." she started, and gulped again. "Is it possible... that my voice reach him...?" With her warm smile still in place, the medic walked over to her and placed her hands on her shoulders. "Well... he is not gonna be able to reply to you but... yes, he can hear you." The young Uzumaki grew very quiet as her eyes drifted once again to Mitsuki. Slowly and without a sound, she approached the bed. Standing on tiptoes, her fingers curled on the bed sheets before she looked back to Sakura. "Can I...?" "Of course, dear." Picking her up, the Uchiha put the little girl on the bed, careful about helping her avoid stepping on the boy. Seeing him up close... Himawari indeed started crying. "Mitsu-nii..." she whispered, before reaching out to hold his hand. "Aunt Sakura says you will hear me..." she began, her voice quivering. "So I just want you to know... We all love you so much... And it will be... very lonely without you around..." She started shaking with the sobs. "So please... wake up soon, okay...? I will fight anyone who is bad mouthing you at that time..." She wiped her eyes. "Just please... please come back to us...!" Leaning forward carefully, she placed a gentle kiss on the cheek of him. "Mom told me that kisses have healing powers..." "I'm sure it'll help his healing process," Sakura said with a smile, then looked at Boruto. "Boruto, can you please take your sister back home? It's not healthy for her to be here much longer." The young blond gulped and nodded. "Let's go, Hima." His younger sister nodded and slid back down from the bed. "You heard her, Mitsuki..." he said, looking back at his friend. "We are all waiting for you, so you better hurry up... And you better not make my sister cry again, you jerk." Even Hima had to smile a little when she heard that. She walked over to her brother, and together they walked out, hand in hand. ... It had been a long day in the office. Aside from the daily businesses of the village, Naruto and his advisors had discussed the situation of the two prisoners. Since he was arriving later in the night, Darui was to deal with Hiraku, but what with Oto being an... unofficial village... there were many debates on what Takeru’s fate would be. The hokage had left the office as soon as the trial date was decided. He was not going back on his word to Boruto. Before he noticed, he found himself in front of their home. The house was dark aside from the light in the living room. As he climbed the stairs, the porch light turned on too. Hinata opened the door to him, a genuine but tired smile on her face. "Naruto..." Naruto hugged her with one arm and placed a soft kiss on her forehead. "How is everything?" Hinata's gaze drifted downwards as she sighed. This made her husband frown a little. "What is it?" "It's just... Himawari..." The woman heaved another deep sigh before looking up into his eyes. "She followed Boruto into the hospital today..." The man's eyes widened before a sad look settled in them. "Oh no..." "She tries to play it down, mostly for the sake of Boruto..." Hinata couldn't help a small smile at that... sometimes, she couldn't tell which one of her children was the oldest. "But of course, she is shaken..." "Of course..." Naruto sighed himself before pulling himself away. "I will visit her first..." And without further ado, he started walking towards his daughter's room. Trying to be as quiet as possible, he pushed the door open. There was a quick movement under the blanket, and the blond couldn't help but chuckle lightly. He walked over to the bed and sat near the head, next to the bulk in it. "Who is the little rodent here?" The answer was immediate, like it always was when they played this game. "I'm not a rodent!" "But little girls should be sleeping at this hour..." "I am sleeping..." came the voice, and the man couldn't hold back his laughter this time. At that, finally his daughter lowered the blankets to look at him. His smile turned a little sad when he saw her reddened eyes. "Himawari..." The youngest Uzumaki smiled tenderly, genuinely happy to see him. "Welcome home, daddy." She scooted a little over so her dad could come in more, taking her in his arms. "So I heard you caused a little mischief today..." he said lightly, and heard her sniffling. "I couldn't stand seeing onii-chan so sad all the time... I wanted to know why he was..." There was a pause, and Himawari gulped before she asked her next question, a tear rolling down her cheek. "Papa... Is... Is Mitsu-nii gonna die...?" Her father's arms wrapped around her more tightly. "No... No Hima, he is strong, he will be back..." The girl raised a hand to wipe her eyes. "Aunt Sakura and mama said so too... But onii-chan is so sad..." Naruto nodded. "It is not easy to see our loved ones like that... But we have to keep believing in them and pray, with all our might, for them to be okay... Alright?" Hima nodded too and a little smile appeared on her face. "I do. I will always be there for onii-chan and Mitsu-nii." Naruto put his hand over her head and stroked her hair a bit before kissing the top of her head. "I know you will." Then he slowly got up from the bed, putting the covers over his daughter. "But for that, you will need your strength. So you need to go to sleep." "Yep." the young girl smiled warmly at him. "I will. Good night, daddy." "Good night, Himawari." he said, smiling himself. Now was the hardest part... Naruto stood for a while in front of his son's door, gathering his courage. Knowing that he was probably not asleep yet and he wouldn't appreciate it if he didn't, he knocked on the door before opening. Just as he thought, Boruto was lying spread-eagled on his bed, his eyes wide open. His head turned to the door when he heard it open. "Dad...?" Naruto smiled at him. "How are you, oja (1)?" The younger blond stared at him for a moment. "It's been a while since you called me that... Back when..." "...you won your first sparring match in the academy." Boruto smiled a little too. "Mom couldn't come because of Hima... You were there to watch me..." The man took the few steps to the bed. "As I will always be." he pulled the covers over his son. "And you will always be my champion." "You know, I'm not a little kid anymore." the boy said with a bit of a pout, but it was clear that he was also enjoying himself. That made Naruto chuckle a little before ruffling his son's hair. "I know. Now go to sleep." He was about to get out when Boruto's voice stopped him. "Dad...?" He turned back, curiosity in his eyes. "Yeah?" "You should visit Hima too... S-she followed me to the hospital today..." Naruto felt pride filling his chest... thinking of how his children were always so protective to each other... "I already did. She is going to be fine... She is strong, just like you." The young boy's smile was genuine. "Thank you, dad..." With that, Naruto walked out and gently closed the door behind him. ... The evening turned into a chilling night as the train made its way into the station and came to a stop on squeaking wheels. The doors opened and first came out jounin ranked ninjas, eyes alert, positions rigid. Naruto and Shikamaru stepped forward as finally, a dark skinned man descended the steps. "Lord Raikage..." Shikamaru said with a small bow. The man inclined his head towards him in acknowledgement before turning his gaze on Naruto, and both the kages gazed at each other with grim expressions. "Welcome to Konoha, Darui." Naruto said at last.        

[wonderlandleighleigh]

Sand In Your Shoes

2 YEARS LATER 

He lets himself have few pleasures these days.

Hiding from the Empire as a wanted man means that the comforts he knew on Coruscant at the Jedi Temple are, for the most part, long behind him. 

Now, there is sand, and there is his little hut in the middle of nowhere. 

And there is his very old caff maker. 

Which is broken. 

This will not stand.

A fresh cup of caf every other day is one of his few indulgences, and by the Force, Obi-Wan Kenobi will not be denied.

So Obi-Wan Kenobi packs up his caf maker, and hops on the bantha he’s been using to get around (he’s lost his left leg, and getting around is still difficult even with the mech replacement two years later), and rides into Mos Espa. 

He’s heard some of the farmers talk about there being a little fixit shop on the far edge of town that does marvelous work, quickly and for reasonable prices. 

That seems nice. 

When he gets into Mos Espa, he leaves his bantha and heads slowly towards the edge of the city, and the little fixit shop with it's big window in front and dusty sign that reads "repairs."

When Obi-Wan steps in, he finds an incredibly tall woman in lightweight clothing, her long, dark hair swept up away from her face. She's clearly Hapan, though how she got all the way out here, Obi-Wan wouldn't know.

How anyone winds up on this giant sand trap of a planet…

Suddenly he misses rain. And snow. And Satine and Anakin and Ahsoka and everything all at once. 

Amazing how the grief hits at inopportune times. 

"Can I help you?" The woman asks, stepping away from the shelf of electronics she's organizing. 

Obi-Wan shakes himself out of his thoughts. "Er...yes. Yes, please, I…" he fumbles around clumsily in his sack, pulling the caf maker out. "If there is any way to repair my caf maker…"

She nods and gives him a surprisingly kind grin. It looks out of place on her rough features, but it's welcome. "Of course, of course. My repair tech for today is running late, but should be here soon. Have a seat."

"Thank you," Obi-Wan nods gratefully, and carefully sits on one of the benches carved into the building, looking around. 

“While we wait, I’ll start a ticket for you,” The Hapan woman says, stepping behind the counter and pulling out a beat-up old datapad. “Name?” 

“Er...Ben,” he tells her. “Ben Kenobi.” 

She nods and types it in. “Broken caf maker...I’m guessing this is a job you’d like done as soon as possible?” 

Obi-Wan grins sheepishly. “Yes. Yes, please.” He takes a breath. “Is this your shop?” 

“Mhm,” she tells him as she keeps typing into the datapad. “Been here about ten years now.”

“That’s quite a good run,” he comments. 

“Well, we’re good at what we do around here,” she tells him. She huffs and checks the chrono on the wall. “Except, apparently, for timeliness.” 

“Is your technician often late?” Obi-Wan asks conversationally. 

“Ah, he’s got a two-year-old,” she waves a hand with a slightly annoyed grin. “Single dad. I try to be understanding about it.” 

Obi-Wan nods. Padme’s twins would be around that age now. He hopes they’re at least doing alright. The last time he saw Padme, she was holding her newborn babies. 

Anakin’s babies. 

When he’d heard the transmission from Mandalore...that both Ahsoka and Anakin had died under Order 66, he had broken down into tears for his apprentices. 

No. 

His family. 

Those days just before leaving Coruscant for the last time had been…

“Sorry I’m late! Li Sh’ka.” 

It’s a deep, clear voice that rings through the shop. One Obi-Wan can’t believe he’s hearing.

“Finally!” the woman - Li Sh’ka, snaps with a chuckle. “Where have you been?” 

“Luke had a blow-out,” the man says as he settles a little boy onto the counter. “We’ve been working on potty training but so far, he’s a little afraid of the toilet.” 

Obi-Wan watches the man in wonder. He has deeply tanned skin, and short, blond hair. Tall, and blue-eyed. 

One arm.

Scar bisecting one of his eyes. 

Obi-Wan opens his mouth to speak but nothing comes out as the man continues not to notice him.

“Kids,” Li Sh’ka grunts joking. “I gotta make a run across town. In the meantime, we’ve gotta customer with a busted caf maker.” She grins at Obi-Wan. “You’re in good hands, Ben.” 

He manages the slightest of nods, his eyes still trained on the new arrivals. 

As Li Sh’ka leaves, the man snaps up the datapad as the little boy lays down on the counter. 

“Hot,” he says. 

“I know, buddy,” the man says as he reads over the information. “We’ll get some water after I’ve finished helping Ben Ke-” 

He stops. His eyes slowly lift from the datapad to the bench, wide, disbelieving. “No...bi…” 

Obi-Wan shakes as he gets to his feet, his mech leg feeling heavier than ever. He somehow manages to get words out, though he has no idea how. “You mean to tell me,” he croaks. “That you have been here the whole time?” 

The man - who is absolutely Anakin Skywalker - just keeps staring. 

“Hi,” the little boy says, sitting up. “Hi.” 

Obi-Wan takes a deep, cleansing breath and wishes for about the sixth time that morning that he could reach into the Force and gather his calm. “Hello there,” he says, smiling at the little boy. 

“Daddy says hi,” the little boy tells him solemnly. 

Anakin drops the datapad and quickly hops over the counter, bum rushing Obi-Wan and flinging his arm around him, causing the older man to stumble backward. 

“I knew you were alive,” Anakin sniffles against his shoulder. “I knew it.” 

It takes Obi-Wan a long moment to return the embrace, his eyes still wide with shock. “My caf maker is broken,” he says in a horse tone. 

Anakin gives a watery laugh and pulls away, patting the other man’s shoulder. “Hand it over.” 

“Where is your other arm?” Obi-Wan asks as he hands it over. 

“Around,” Anakin tells him, stepping back behind the counter. “Luke, this is your uncle Obi-” 

“Ben,” Obi-Wan snaps. “I’m going by Ben now.” 

Anakin nods slowly and sets the caf maker down on the counter. “Ben. Your Uncle Ben.” 

Luke lights up and flings his little arms into the air. “Unca!” 

Obi-Wan smiles sadly and strokes Luke’s shaggy hair. “Yes, I remember you. I was there when you were born. Little one.” 

Anakin looks at him with such emotion. “I’m so glad,” he says quietly. “That one of us was there for Padme.” 

Obi-Wan swallows. “We...we have so much to talk about.” 

“We do,” Anakin nods as he gets to work, his hand shaking a little. “But I’ve got an entire day’s work to get through before we can. Where are you even living?” 

“Past the Jundland Wastes.” 

Anakin gives a low whistle. “That’s far.” 

“Why? Where are you living?” Obi-Wan asks, looking concerned. 

“The other end of Mos Espa.” 

“Anakin!” 

“I have a toddler,” he says. “I need to be near resources, and I know how to hide in crowds. I barely look like I used to anyway.” 

“You could be staying on the Larrs farm,” Obi-Wan says. 

“That’d go well,” Anakin grumbles as he keeps working. “Obi-Wan, really. I have this covered.” 

“Yes, until the inquisitors get here,” Obi-Wan grumbles. 

Anakin lifts an eyebrow at his old master. “And which one of us is still wearing his old Jedi robes?” 

Obi-Wan’s mouth closes.

Anakin smiles widely. “I missed you, Master.” 

Luke reaches out and tugs on Obi-Wan’s outer robes. “Blankie.” 

“He’s been sleeping with mine as a blanket since he was a baby,” Anakin explains as he keeps working on the caf maker. 

“Back!” Li Sh’ka calls as she steps back in. “How is the repair going?” 

“Fine!” Anakin says quickly. “There’s just some sand where there shouldn’t be. A good clean-out..maybe replace one of the grinders. We should be good to go.” 

“Good,” Li Sh’ka nods, grinning at Obi-Wan. “Parts and labor, that’ll be fifty credits.” 

“A fair price,” Obi-Wan nods, fumbling with his pack again. 

“Li Sh’ka, Ben is an old friend of mine,” Anakin tells her. “I had no idea he was in town until I looked up and saw him.” 

“Oh yeah?” Li Sh’ka says, looking at Anakin. She then turns to Luke. “He a friend, bud?” 

Luke, again, raises his arms in excitement. “Unca!” 

She laughs and ruffles Luke’s hair. “Okay. Naberrie. You can knock five off the price for him.” 

Obi-Wan gives his former apprentice a judgemental look, mouthing ‘Naberrie?’ 

 “Maybe he can take Luke out for a walk while we’re working.” 

“I’d...I’d rather not,” Anakin says. “I heard there’s some bounty hunters in town this week, and you know Luke. He says hi to everyone.” 

Li Sh’ka nods, chuckling a little. “I suppose that’s true. We wouldn’t want him getting sold to the Hutts.” 

“No,” Anakin says grimly. “No we wouldn’t.” 

“No,” Luke repeats. “No no.” 

Li Sh’ka nods. “You okay manning the fort? I’ve got a few more errands to run. I’ll bring back some lunch.” 

“Sounds good,” Anakin nods. “We’ll be here.” 

Once she leaves again, Obi-Wan gives him a pointed look. “Naberrie? Really? You don’t think that’s suspicious?” 

“Me? you’re the one who didn’t even bother changing your last name,” Anakin hisses. “ Ben Kenobi? You don’t think that’s a little noticeable?” 

He waves a dismissive hand. “Are there really bounty hunters in town?” Obi-Wan asks. 

“We’re on Tatooine. There are always bounty hunters.” 

Obi-Wan grins just a little, and watches Anakin as he pokes and prods at the caf maker. He feels both younger and older than he has in years. Watching Anakin tinker with some electronics just like old times...but with Anakin’s two-year-old son watching as well, it almost feels like a completely new experience. 

He smiles anyway.

[closetfanfictionauthor]

every time we touch

i know kaz is out of characte here but.....i don’t care i wanted to write kaz as a dad and i know he’d be a big softie so you can fight me on this. enjoy

also on ao3

Kaz Brekker doesn't do touching. The number of people who have seen his hands out of his gloves can be counted on Kaz's one hand.

But for Inej, he tries. It takes days, months and years to swallow back the revulsion he feels at human contact.

It starts with a brush of fingers until the desire to vomit fades away as Kaz reminds himself that she's not a bloated corpse.

It becomes standing side by side with shoulders touching, and Kaz has to close his eyes until he can bear the feeling without thinking of cold, clammy flesh.

It's Inej straightening his tie when they spend time with her family and Kaz so desperately wants to press his lips to her warm, brown skin. But he can't promise he won't faint and so he refrains.

Until the day he can finally place his mouth on hers and his body melts over her frame the way it's supposed to.

And it's only possible because Inej is brave enough and strong enough to master her own paralyzing reaction to skin on skin contact.

She tries because she can see how it takes every ounce of Kaz's strength to touch her. And she wants him to touch her and for her to be present for every second instead of thinking of the horrors she endured.

For her it starts with hand-holding, which she can manage with only the slightest racing heart. They make it to hugs and it is Kaz who strokes her head when her muscles lock and her breath comes fast. Kaz whose heart she focuses on and tries to match with her deep breaths.

It is Kaz who holds her when she comes through his window on the days her ship is docked in Ketterdam. She can never catch him unaware. The second her shadow falls over his sleeping form, his eyes are on her, as if he's waiting for her.

They are an unlikely pair in Ketterdam, and yet; they make the most sense. For who else would Dirtyhands Brekker see as his equal if not for the Wraith.

And if anyone doubts how devoted they are to each other, because Kaz Brekker would never be caught acting even close to affectionate in public, all they have to think of is the stories whispered in the dark about the time he ripped out a man's eyes for the damages wrought on his Wraith.

But there comes a time when Inej whispers to him in the dark, wrapped in the cocoon of his arms, that there is to be a child. And of course it's Kaz's, for who else could it be.

In the quiet that follows, he is almost frozen with fear. Inej is the only one who's touch he can bear. In that instant, he wishes the child was someone else's even though the very thought of it is enough to send him into a shaking rage.

Because what if he cannot bear the touch of his own child? What will he do then?

He never says as much to Inej, but she has learned every tic and breath and shift of Kaz and what it means and she understands, anyway.

Inej imagines Kaz will be many things as a father: protective, stern but revolted by his own child is not one of them.

Kaz is present when the squalling alien looking child enters the world. Steady and calm, the way Inej needs him to be while she screams and crushes his hands in her grip. Comforting is not a word that has ever been used to describe Kaz Brekker. But while Inej is whimpering in pain, his low voice provides a stream of encouragement in her ear as she gasps for breath. He is solid, never wavering as Inej pushes and pushes and times stretches on.

But finally the child enters the world, their voice piercing the quiet where only Inej's heaving breaths are heard. Kaz's hand is still holding Inej's, but his sharp eyes follow the Healer as they whisk his child out of sight, his ears straining to make sure his child is still making noise.

Kaz is stroking Inej's hair, whispering how wonderful she did, wiping the sweat from her face, fluffing her pillows to make sure she's comfortable because she is the dearest thing in the world to him.

Kaz doesn't get a chance for his heart to stop racing or to think about his fear of being revolted by his own child when a swaddled bundle is thrust into his arm and the Healer is exiting the room to give the brand new parents a moment together. He barely hears the news that he is the father to a daughter.

Kaz freezes in wonder, looking down at the tiny human in his hands. The wriggling and crying stops almost immediately when she is placed in his arms. His little girl has light brown skin and jet black hair and her eyes are big and dark as her head moves from side to side.

Kaz wants to do the exact opposite of drop his little girl, he wants to hold her close, and kiss her and take in that baby smell to make sure that she's real.

His shaky legs collapse on the edge of the bed Inej is lying in and he presents their daughter to her tired eyes.

"She's so small," Inej says sleepily.

"She's going to be my cutthroat little girl," Kaz coos down at her. Inej rolls her eyes and relaxes into her pillows.

"Typical."

"I can't wait for the day she breaks someone's knees," Kaz says, holding the little baby to his chest.

"Kaz!"

"You're right, we'll start her with knives, there's a lot less blood involved," Kaz says solemnly. Inej lets out a laugh, Kaz's favourite laugh, and then groans.

"Healers!" he barks, and they come rushing into the room. Kaz says nothing else. The look on his face is threatening enough, so he moves out of their way as they work to heal Inej and ease her pain.

It takes an hour, maybe more, Kaz standing in the corner the whole time, rocking his child as he lightly strokes his hand over her downy hair while Inej lays with her eyes closed. In the end the Healers tell him that physically Inej is fine, but the exhaustion in her bones is something that will only go away with sleep.

They name her Nina.

The only people who know that Kaz turns into a puddle of mush when it comes to his child are the child in question and Inej. The first couple of years, when the folks of the Barrel see Inej, Kaz, and little Nina out and about, they whisper how lonely the child must feel and how unloved because her father never hugs her or gives her kisses.

They whisper how Nina must be so afraid of displeasing Dirtyhands Brekker, even now, at her young age. They whisper how Kaz must already demand more of this little girl than anyone demands of their child because Kaz Brekker doesn't have time for the underwhelming. They whisper that Kaz Brekker must be planning something because Kaz does nothing without a scheme in mind.

At least that's how the rumours go.

Inej is the only one who's seen Kaz stay up all night, soothing Nina when she wakes up crying, feeding her warm milk to get her back to sleep while he thinks Inej is still sleeping. Inej is there when Nina catches her first cold and Kaz puts on Nina's favourite jacket and hat, and her little bejeweled shoes to go get some hot chocolate while Inej tracks down a Healer.

No one from the Barrel sees the time Kaz puts a band-aid on Nina's pudgy knees when she's just getting the hang of walking and trips and falls. They do not see Kaz when he tells Nina children's stories right before bed to get her to settle down, or the way Nina is sprawled out on Kaz's chest, her own rising and falling in deep sleep. Sometimes she leaves them like that. Kaz passed out while his daughter uses him as a mattress.

He watches Inej teach Nina how to ride a bike first and then she gets her started on balancing on a wooden beam. His face is calm, his features neutral, hands clasped behind his back as he watches the toddler stumble across, her chubby hands clasped in Inej's. On the outside, Kaz is the picture of stern, unconcerned, because they are in public. He appears the demanding father who will not approve of his child not being a double threat with the combined skills of her parents. It is like everyone would expect.

On the inside, Kaz is a mess.

Breaking into and out of the Ice Court was easier than having to sit back and watch his little girl stumble on a wooden beam when she's barely learned to walk. He wants to scoop her up into his arms, press kisses to her face, and take her home with the promise that she'll never have to worry about hurting her little legs.

But he doesn't. Because they are in public. And he knows a child of his cannot be soft in a place like Ketterdam.

Nina, of course, adores him and learns very quickly that she has her father wrapped around her little finger. Kaz will sneak her sweets and ice cream and even toss her in the air while she shrieks with giggles of delight. Inej scolds the two of them for being partners in crime, but in truth, it fills her with warmth.

Kaz Brekker is exactly the kind of father that she knew he would be.

When it's time for little Nina to go to preschool, it's Inej who enrolls her because they both know Kaz would make the administration faint from fear. It's Inej who drops Nina off in the morning, and for the first few weeks, it is the other Crows who pick up Nina from school. The parents are used to seeing Jesper's lanky form and Wylan's curly hair swinging Nina back and forth between the two of them as they take her to their house for babysitting. Once or twice they even see Hanne and Nina, together, pick up the little girl from school and take her shopping to buy her pretty clips and brightly coloured dresses.

And eventually it's Kaz who takes over picking up his daughter from preschool.

The other parents or servants stare at Kaz out of the corner of their eye, their heads bent together whispering to each other about the tall man dressed all in black and a cane in his hand. They wonder who he's here to pick up on his first day and watch in confusion as lovely little Nina comes bounding down the stairs of the school, a smile spread across her face as she spots her favourite person in the world waiting.

"Papa!" she yells excitedly as she comes careening into his long legs and latches onto them like a weed. At first she's perplexed by the solemn look on Kaz's face, an expression she's never had occasion to see aimed at her before, but Kaz gives her a wink, and some of the uncertainty leaves her small shoulders.

Kaz bends down even though it pains his leg and acts as if he is making sure Nina's bag is all zipped up.

"Nina darling, Papa has to be serious when we're in crowds like this, okay," he tells her quietly. Nina nods her head eagerly in understanding. "Think of it as a game okay and act super important."

Nina does not understand completely, but she nods anyway and puts on her most serious face and straightens her shoulders. It takes everything in Kaz not to smile and scoop her up.

The other parents watch them walk away, Nina's small hand disappearing inside of Kaz's larger one. They only hear him ask her if she's making him proud in that severe way of his and their faces form frowns out of pity. Nina does her best to try not to sound excited to tell her papa about her day at preschool. Sometimes she forgets and starts skipping before remembering that she has to act important. Serious.

Kaz feels bad for asking his young daughter to do this, a sensation that he is unfamiliar with. It kills him to have to pretend that he doesn't love her when they are outside. But the business that Kaz works in doesn't allow him to be soft in any capacity, not even when it's his child.

On the way home, he buys the two of them ice cream and they wander by the canals, finishing them together. When they get home, Kaz gives little Nina the hugs and kisses that he knows she's come to expect from him, and his heart tugs at the way her face lights up in delight. In his heart is a steady chant of I'm sorry.

He is not afraid that a target will be put on Nina. Everyone has seen what Kaz has done when a single hair on Inej's head was disturbed. It doesn't even bear thinking about the nightmare that awaits the world if his daughter so much as sniffles out of hurt.

[apriorisea]

BTS Imagine: Dealing with a Toddler Tantrum - Namjoon

“Remember,” you’re saying as you and your 3-year-old son approach the studio door, “if daddy is working, we have to be very quiet, ok?”    He looks up at you with his big, dark eyes and nods seriously.    “Very quiet,” you say again, pressing a finger to your lips. “Shhh.”    He nods again and mimics you. “Shhhhhhhh,” he agrees messily.    Smiling, you kiss his cheek. “That’s my boy. Here we go.”    The studio door swings open, and it’s a good thing Namjoon isn’t working because as soon as your son sees his dad, he bursts out with an excited: “Dadddyyyyyyyyyyyy!!!!”     Your husband gets up from his chair quickly, his smile already wide. “Hi buddy!”    You put your son down and he races for his dad; you feel your heart grow 2 sizes as Namjoon picks him up and swings him around a few times, their harmonized giggles going straight through you. Still smiling, you close the door behind you and come further into the room, setting your bag down and shrugging out of your jacket.      “Hi babe,” Namjoon says. Still holding your son in one arm, he comes to you and kisses you gently.     “Hi Joonie. Are you busy?” You brush a strand of hair out of his face. “I didn’t want to interrupt you, but somebody just had to see daddy right away...”     He laughs and looks down at the little boy in his arms, bouncing him once to make him giggle. “Have you been bothering mommy, champ??”    “Nooooo,” your son giggles. He launches into a long, garbled explanation of his day, using all of his (rather impressive) vocabulary and then making up things to get his point across.     Your husband listens attentively the whole time, reacting appropriately to the most exciting parts of the story. Hooking his free arm around your waist, he pulls you deeper into the studio, settling the three of you on the couch in the corner.    After recounting his day, your busy little guy is ready to be on the move again. “Daddy, down!”    “Kiss first.” Namjoon requests, and when his son places a sticky, sloppy kiss on his cheek, he grins and sets him on the floor. “Be careful, ok?”    “’K,” the toddler agrees, going to his favorite corner of the room where your husband kept a basket of toddler-appropriate toys ready for him.    Namjoon slings his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. “And how are you, my love?” he asks, kissing your temple. “Sounds like it’s been a busy day...”    You laugh softly, taking his free hand in yours and playing idly with his fingers. “No busier than usual, I guess.” Glancing at the clock, you add, “Plus, it’s almost nap-time.”    “Thanks for coming by. I miss you guys like crazy, you know.”     You smile. “I know. We miss you, too.”    He sighs. “This is why I think we should get started on the home studio. Then I don’t have to go anywhere else to work!”     “Baby, I know that sounds like a good idea,” you say, picking up a familiar argument. “But I still think you need a proper studio, away from home. You need a place to just be for work, you know?”     He groans. Knowing that, yet again, the discussion would be won by your cool logic, he ducks his head into the crook of your neck, tickling you a little with his breath. “But I miss you.”    “Well, then, you’re just going to have to finish your work sooner,” you say, squirming out of his hold. When he sits up, you meet his eye with a smile. “Then you can come home sooner.”    “Or,” he tries, “You guys can just come to the studio and hang out with me all day?”    At that exact moment, a toy goes flying across the room.    Sitting up a little, you call your son’s name. “No-no,” you say firmly. “We don’t throw things.” To your husband, you add, “You’re going to eat those words, my friend.”    Before he can answer, there’s a sound of a deep, shaky inhale, and you know exactly what’s coming next. Sure enough, as you both turn to look at your son, he looks at you with big crocodile tears in his eyes, tips his head back, and begins to cry loudly.    Namjoon grins a little at your exasperated sigh. “Nap-time, huh?”    “Yes,” you say wearily. “Definitely nap-time.” You call your son’s name again, trying to catch his attention. “It’s all right, sweetie. Come over here, okay?” When the little boy ignores you, too caught up in his tantrum, you sigh again.    “It’s okay, love,” your husband says, pulling his arm away and sitting up. “I’ve got this. Take a break.”    You snuggle back against the couch. “Be my guest.”    Namjoon says your son’s name loudly, which prompts the little guy to sit down, hard, on the floor. “That’s enough,” he says, and in response, your son grabs the toy nearest him and chucks it at the floor as hard as he can, looking at his dad defiantly.    You hear your husband stifle back a laugh and reach out to swat his thigh. “Don’t you dare encourage this,” you say, struggling to keep a straight face.    “I’m not!” He says, turning to you with a wide, unabashed smile. “I’m just thrilled that he got so much of your stubbornness, love.” He pretends to wince when you swat him again and turns back to his son. “Hey buddy,” he calls again. “What’s the matter?”    The little boy just cries harder.    “Oh,” Namjoon sympathizes. “It’s been a long day, huh bud?” Assessing the situation calmly, he gives a sudden, dramatic gasp. “Oh! Look! Is that Pororo by your foot??”    Your son is pulled out of his tears by the sudden excitement in his dad’s voice. Almost unwillingly, he looks around, his eyes quickly going to the stuffed doll at his feet. When his dad asks again, he nods slowly.    “That’s so cool, buddy!” Namjoon continues, still slightly amused by meltdown. “Can I see it?”    “Yes,” the toddler says shortly, but he doesn’t move.    Namjoon ducks his head to laugh. “Yup, there’s his mom again..”    “Hey.”    “Will you bring it to me?” he asks persuasively. “I really want to see it. Can you bring it over here? I bet it’s really cool.”     Slowly, your little guy swallows his tears and grabs the doll. Getting carefully to his feet---still hiccuping from the crying fit---he comes to the couch with the doll outstretched.    Your husband takes it from him. “Wow. I was right---this is really cool. Isn’t it, buddy? You like Pororo, right?” He smiles when the toddler gives a big, serious nod. “Thanks for showing me. Do you want to take Pororo home for nap-time today?”    A glimmer of excitement crosses your son’s face and he nods more quickly.    “Okay,” Namjoon says gamely. “But you have to promise that you’ll be nice to your mom, all right? You have to be extra good for her: no more throwing toys. Promise?”    “Mmhmm.” The little boy nods solemnly, looking up at you for confirmation. “I pwomise, mommy.”     Trying not to laugh at his serious little face, you nod back. “Okay, sweetie. I believe you. We’ll take Pororo home with us today.”     Your son gives a delighted laugh and rushes towards you, squirming onto your lap to give you a few kisses. “Thanks, mommy!” he says several times.    “Tell daddy thank you,” you instruct, meeting your husband’s eyes with a smile.    “Thanks, daddy!”     Namjoon is grinning. “You’re welcome, buddy.”    “Before we go,” you say, “We need to clean up the rest of the toys. Can you go do that?”    “Yes!” Your little guy nods vigorously, then squirms out of your lap. Pausing only for a second to grab the Pororo out of his dad’s hands, he says again, “Yes, mommy!” and dashes away, trying to collect all the toys as quickly as possible.    “Ah,” Namjoon says, “There’s some of his dad in him.”     You laugh. “What, cleaning up after himself?”    “No,” he gives you a look. “Completely devoted to his mom, the most beautiful woman in the whole world.”     You roll your eyes, but still feel yourself blush. “Wow, so smooth.”    Laughing, he pulls you to him and kisses you seriously. “It’s true. We wouldn’t know what to do without you, my love.” Raising his voice a little, he calls your son’s name. “Come over here: it’s time to give mom a kiss attack!!”

[secret-engima]

Do you have any HCs for And A Child Shall Lead Them verse?

Hmmm lemme think! I might end up accidentally repeating HCs from earlier posts, if so I apologize.

-Queen Aulea lives for longer in this AU because it takes longer to have Noctis. The Kingsglaive were her idea in this AU because Aulea is awesome like that. She also had a major hand in running it up until her death post Noctis’s birth so the glaive all Loved Her Dearly and are monstrously protective of bby Noctis because that’s THEIR QUEEN’S KID. The last thing they have of her. They will Protecc.

-Noctis in this has a Dyslexia problem that makes him 100% more cranky about doing his homework/reading things. Ignis tends to read aloud to him just to help all their sanity even though Noctis has regular sessions to help his dyslexia issues.

-Everyone picture Noctis refusing to spell Ardyn’s name in any written correspondence because he keeps mixing up the y and the d and possibly the r and its easier to just write Uncle. Ardyn is very bemused by this.

-Prompto joined the Crownsguard because he looks up to Cor like- a LOT. He also wanted to help serve the country that took him in despite him being Nif. He joined the Guard and not the Glaive even though he has magic potential because Cor runs the Guard and Prompto was afraid of what people would think if his barcode was discovered.

-Cor actually personally talked to Prompto when Prompto signed up because he remembered that this was the kiddo he rescued from a lab. He explained that yes, he knew about Prompto’s barcode and if Prompto joins the Guard then Cor would help cover for that. Prompto, once he got over near-hyperventilating at being in the presence (and CONVERSATION) of Cor the Immortal, gratefully accepted the offer.

-Prompto only meets Noctis during the invasion and subsequent fall but oath or no oath he would already die for this kid okay? Okay.

-Noctis loves Prompto basically instantly because Noctis is scared and he just got separated from his dad and home and Ignis is worried and Gladio is angry so when Prompto comes up to a distressed Noctis and smiles like the sun and asks if Noct wants to play King’s Knight ... Prompto is instantly Noctis’s new favorite person.

-Prompto just wants to know how a ten year old is so much better than him at video games. Like- he knows all the jokes about being beaten on the internet by kiddos but SERIOUSLY, Noctis is blowing all of Prompto’s high scores out of the water.

-Noctis discovers Prompto’s barcode during a splash fight gone a little too intense. Prompto starts panicking and Noctis has no clue WHY, just that Prompto is scared of this thing on his skin so Noct reaches out and grabs that wrist and puts his hand on it very solemnly and pushes his magic into the mark like how his dad used to gently pump magic into Noctis’s cuts and scrapes. Prompto goes very quiet in awe as the mark turns soft Lucian blue and Noctis looks up and innocently asks if its better now. It’s not, Prompto should still be freaking out, but- but his prince is so SWEET so all Prompto can do is smile a watery smile and say, “Thanks, Noct. That helped a lot.”

-Then Gladio and Ignis show up wondering about why Prompto was panicking and why Noctis’s magic just flared and OF COURSE Noctis tell Ignis about the mark, because Ignis fixes everything and Prompto has another meltdown that ends in him having a lapful of cuddly possessive prince and Ignis calmly explaining that of COURSE they don’t hold a tattoo given to him as a BABY against him don’t be silly.

-Side note that magic thing Noctis did to Prompto’s mark permanently turns it blue. It still works to open Nif doors and stuff, but it’s blue now and Noctis can always feel it. He uses it to track Prompto’s position and will spontaneously warp to him via the magic left in the ink. Prompto gets used to being tackle-hugged by his prince. Ignis is actually pleased with this because it means Noctis has a quick escape to a trusted adult now.

-Ardyn sees the mark one day after inserting himself into the group and he snaps his fingers and is like “I THOUGHT you looked like a young Besithia. So glad you didn’t inherit his temperament.” and Prompto and co are like WHAT so Ardyn blithely tells them about the cloning program and Prompto needs to go throw up in the bushes now kthanks.

-Noctis listens with a solemn expression on his face and then asks if that means there are MORE Prompto’s out there that need to be rescued. Ardyn tries to explain that most of them are so poisoned with scourge by the time they’re eight months old that there’s really no point but Noctis has the bit in his teeth now.

-Ardyn may or may not disappear for a few weeks and then come back with like- four bby clones and a fifth clone toddler in his arms that he promptly herds over to Noctis and is like HAPPY BIRTHDAY NEPHEW. I RESCUED ALL THE ONES I COULD AND THEN BURNED DOWN THE FACILITY ARE YOU PROUD OF ME.

-Don’t mind Ignis and Prompto having a joint meltdown in the corner over there, they’ll get over it.

-Luckily this would be toward the tail end of the Roadtrip so Ignis does not need to juggle infant and toddler care along with Fleeing the Enemy Empire for very long. He still holds a grudge against Ardyn for it tho. Because HIS BLOOD PRESSURE. ARDYN WHAT WERE YOU THINKING.

-Regis is Very Confused when he finally gets his son back and his son has four bbys and a toddler with him that he very firmly announces are all his brothers even though they are blond.

-Somehow they end up being Cor’s kids. Cor is .... very unsure how that happened but he thinks Noctis’s puppy eyes were involved. Also he may have formally adopted Prompto in there as a package deal and also thanks to the young Crownsguard for saving Noctis during the invasion? He is now a dad of six???? Someone pls explain????????

[thetokenmuggle]

The Sleepover Part 2

follows this story (x)

Includes : M, Jane,Tyler Lee, Daniel Choi,  Astrid Lee, Oliver Lee Choi, Milo Young, Charlie Young and Ella Yang

“Has everyone finished their desserts?” Jane asked as she placed the freshly cleaned plates back in the cupboard. She looked over at the table to see Astrid struggling to finish her second piece of cake, Ella telling Oliver how Mark was teaching her how to play guitar, Milo was looking towards the living room practically jumping in his seat ready to show off the super cool blanket fort he made with M earlier on today to everyone and Charlie was letting M wipe her face because it was somehow covered in chocolate sauce. Jane couldn’t stop the smile from spreading on her face, the whole scene was adorably perfect. 

“Yes Mummy” and “I have and so has Oli,” were called out by Milo and Ella respectively. Jane smiled at the pair waving her wand at their bowls as they floated into the sink to clean. 

“I am almost,” Astrid called out waving her spoon around, Jane winced as some melted ice cream dripped off her spoon onto her floor. It would be easy to clean up but Jane would be lying if she wasn’t contemplating sending a cleaning bill to Sungjae.

“Sweetie you don’t have to eat all your cake tonight,” Jane said to her. “We can always save it for you to take home tomorrow,” Jane offered. 

“Okay , oh and can I get a piece for Mummy, Daddy and Minjae as well?” she said, clapping happily. “Oh and maybe some cupcakes as well,” she said, batting her eyelids at M. “Please Uncle M?” she said with a toothy grin. Jane sighed, her poor husband. 

“I guess you could but you know Minjae won’t be able to eat them right?” M said standing up sufficiently happy with Charlie’s face. “

“You said I need to help Minjae grow so he should learn to eat cupcakes instead of that yucky baby food Mummy keeps feeding him,” Astrid huffed. Jane smirked if she had to guess Astrid’s interest was more in feeding her sweet addiction then helping Minjae out. 

“Oh can i get a cupcake for my dad too?” Ella asked suddenly. “He is going on tour again tomorrow,” Ella pouted, Oli muttered an again with an adorable frown on his face. . 

“Can Oli get some cupcakes to?” He asked softly. “My daddies aren’t going anywhere, or Oli doesn’t think they are,” he said he demeanour completely changed causing M and Jane too look at each other. The normal sweet boy had his fist clenched and eyes narrowed. “But Oli is sure they aren’t,” he said reverting back to normal. “But it would be mean if they don’t get any as well,” he said nodding. 

“Okay, hang on,” Jane said, stopping these kids from turning M into some cupcake slave. “How about this, I will wrap the cake up for Astrid and tomorrow M and I will help you all make cupcakes to take home,” Jane said. 

“Even us?” Milo asked pointing towards himself and Charlie.

“Especially you two,” M said ruffling Milo’s hair causing his son to try and dodge him erupting into giggles as he did so. “But for now you all need to get ready for our movie night,” M said. “After all we didn’t build the blanket fort for nothing right?” he said as Milo jumped out of his seat. 

“No no,” Jane said, stopping her son before he raced into the living room. “First we get our pajamas on and brush our teeth,” she said as Milo pouted. “So if we are all finished girls with me and boys follow M,” Jane said as a chorus of children jumped off their seats. Milo was already out of the room racing up the stairs. Jane laughed watching after him.

“And I think that is our cue,” M said laughing. “Come on everyone,” he said. “Lets get changed,” he said. 

“Didn't Jane say that the girls had to go with her?” Ella asked her head tilted to the side as she look up at M.

“She did but since all the rooms are upstairs I think we might all be able together,” M grinned. “Unless you want Oli and I to go first,”  he joked. The three young girls looked up at M all the three of them shaking their heads.

“No no Uncle M, it’s ladies first -”  Astrid said, nose turned up as she told him this fact. He looked at her incredulously, his eyes darting from Astrid to Jane who was trying not to laugh. “We should go first,” she said looking at Ella, Charlie and finally Jane. “

“So you want to leave me and Oli down here by ourselves, I see how it is,” M sniffed. “After i made you all those cupcakes,” he faked a sob, being shoved by Jane ever so slightly. 

“Hmm Oli can come with us,” Astrid said, lacing her hands in his. M had to stop himself from just imagining what would have happened if Sungjae and/or Daniel were here. “Aunty Jane can decide on Uncle M,” she shrugged and like that the four remaining children had raced upstairs. 

“Hmmm i can decide what to do with you?” Jane smirked, eyes raking over M’s body. “I always knew I was Astrid’s favourite,” she said with a grin. 

“Don’t you already do what you want with me?” M asked, raising an eyebrow. “And you are only her favourite right now because you let her do your hair,” he huffed. “If i had luscious long blonde hair i’d be her favourite to,” M said flipping his non-existent hair over his shoulder.

“I do and don’t you forget it,” Jane said with a wink. “And keep telling yourself that hun,” she said with a huff.  “Also I do believe we just got ditched by a bunch of toddlers,” Jane said . “Nice to know we are already at that stage,”  she laughed. “Give it a month and Milo and Charlie will be telling us to wait in the car for them because they don’t want us embarrassing them,” she pouted.

“They grow up so fast,”  M joked nodding solemnly, “If it helps,”he sighed, “by time Milo and Charlie are teenagers we’d be used to it, the others not so much,” he smirked. 

“I can already imagine Sungjae in tears when Astrid tells him he is embarrassing her,” Jane said grinning from ears to ears.  M smiled in amusement at the gleeful look on his wife’s face at the idea of his best friend going through. “And with that happy thought lets go help the kids before they come out looking like little pajama frankenstines,” she joked. “Lets go love,” she said, lacing her fingers through M’s and moving up the stairs. 

---

“Mummy why aren’t you in your PJ’s,” Charlie asked lips jutted out in a pout as she looked over at Jane who was still dressed in her every day where. The other girls turned around gathering around the foot of her bed looking at her expectantly. 

“Oh so you want me to wear pajamas,” Jane questioned looking at the hopeful faces of the little trio. “Ah but mummy’s  pajamas aren’t as cute as all of yours,” she said hoping that would be a good enough reason for her to stay dressed. 

“Oh are you like mummy?” Astrid asked, her nose scrunching up as she spoke. Jane was almost afraid to ask Astrid what she was talking about but it turns out she didn’t have to because Astrid was more than willing to share. “All of her pajamas are lackey or silk,” Astrid said, shaking her head. “Very not cute!” she huffed.

“It’s okay mummy, you can wear you not cute pajamas,” Charlie said nodding solemnly. “You are old,” she said. Jane let out an affronted huff, playfully glaring at her daughter. 

“I think someone is just asking to be tickled,” Jane said grinning as Charlie already began to squeal bouncing up and down. 

“Nooooo,” Charlie laughed. “Tickle Astrid instead,” she said, throwing her friend under the bus. 

[jane gets pajamas - probably includes one of m’s shirts or hoodies]

---

“Nice shirt,’ M commented his eyes flickering from setting up the media player over to Jane. Jane winked at him as she sat beside him on the couch, muttering a spell for a throw rug to keep warm. The children were all gathered in Milo’s blanket fort chatting happily amongst themselves.

 “Okay we are all ready,’ He said loud enough to grab the children’s attention, five little heads popping out of the fort almost instantaneously. ‘Does anyone have any movie suggestions?” he asked as a chorus of movie titles flew out of the kids mouths. 

“I heard How To Train Dragons, is everyone happy with that?” M asked.  There were a few grumbles among the children but they all eventually agreed - Astrid stating that they had to watch The Adventures of Henry Hippogriff next though. M laughed promising that they could, Jane side eyed her husband as he knew very well most of these kids couldn’t stay up that long. It was already getting close to Charlie’s bedtime. 

“Mr M?”Mrs M?” Oli called out just as the movie began to load. ‘What time is it?” he asked his head popping out.  

‘It’s almost 8 sweetie,” Jane responded, watching the way the boy's face morphed into a concerned one, his face scrunched up as he mumbled to himself “Is something wrong?” 

“No,” Oli squeaked, burying his head into his toy dragon.

“He is worried that if he doesn’t say goodnight to his Appa and Daddy that they won’t go to sleep,” Astrid poked her head. ‘I told him he was being silly that his Appa and Daddy want special Mummy and Daddy time…. Well Appa and Daddy time i guess,” Astrid pouted as she thought that sentence through. Jane rolled her eyes as M suddenly started coughing beside her. One day soon Jane was going to have a talk with Minah and Sungjae about what Astrid should and should not know.

“Special Daddy and Appa time without Oli?” Oli repeated a frown making its way onto his face. Jane had to stop herself from cooing at how cute he was. 

‘It’s not like that,” Ella said softly patting Oli on the back in attempt to comfort him. “M? Jane? Could Oli maybe call his dad’s?” she asked turning to face M and Jane. “So he can say goodnight and see how much they miss him?’ she asked. 

“Ofcourse, come up here Oliver,” Jane sliding across and tapping the space beside her. Oli timidly climbed watching in fascination as Jane pulled out her phone. M had paused the movie so Oli could make his call undisturbed. Jane dialled the number, praying that Tyler would be decent. 

“Jane?” Tyler’s face showed up on her phone, she let out sigh grateful that he seemed to be semi decent, his shirt was barely done up but she knew it could have been worse, though the oof and disappearing figure didn’t fill her with much joy.. “What do you-  Oh my god it’s Oli? Is he okay? I swear to god if anything has happened to him -” he began to rant, eyes narrowed and lips turned into a vicious scowl.

“Daddy!” Oli called out happily. Instantaneously Tyler’s face softened, a big grin made it’s way onto his face. Jane handed the phone to Oli making sure he was holding right so that Tyler could see him. “Daddy! Can you see me?” Oli asked, smiling at the phone and waving with his free hand. “Gyo is here to,” he said picking up his toy and showing it off.

“I can see both of you,’ Tyler said softly. Jane tried not to pull a face, Tyler being soft for anything felt unnatural. ‘I am very happy to see you but why did Jane call me? Is everything okay?” he asked concern lacing his tone. Jane looked over at M who just shook his head, why did these people think their kids would be anything but spectacular under the care?

“Everything is okay,” Oli said grinning. “Oli has had lots of fun,” he added making Jane nod ,damn straight he had fun. “Oli has to goodnight to Daddy and Appa otherwise they won’t sleep,” Oli said shaking his head. “Silly daddy, it’s almost bedtime,” he said as if it is the most obvious thing in the world. “Where is Appa?” 

“Appa?” Tyler questioned loudly, eyes darting some where offscreen. “Oh he is just in the shower,” Tyler said pointedly. Jane scoffed, Astrid was right it was special ‘Appa and Daddy time’ after all. “Look here he is now,” Tyler said turning the phone to find Daniel who was dressed in a dressing gown, hair mused up and an obnoxiously red mark on his neck. 

“Appa!” Oli exclaimed happily. 

“Is that my little prince?” Daniel asked taking the phone out of Tyler’s hand. “Hello baby are you having fun with Jane and M?” he asked sitting down.  Jane while not still not impressed with his disheveled state she was grateful he didn’t automatically assume there was an issue though that might have been because he was listening on the previous conversation. 

“Yes,” Oli said nodding. “We are going to make cupcakes tomorrow, Oli is going to bring you and daddy some,” he grinned. 

“Oh yummy,” Daniel grinned. “I bet your cupcakes are going taste the yummiest,” he said. 

“Naturally,” Tyler chimed. “Anyway,” Tyler said grabbing his phone back holding his arm so they could both been seen. “Oli called to say goodnight to us because he was worried that if he didn’t we would forget to sleep,” Tyler said as Daniel nodded solemnly. 

“That is very serious,” he said. “Thank goodness Oli called otherwise we wouldn’t have gone to sleep and then we’d be all tired and grumpy,” he said. 

“Hi Uncle Ty, Hi Uncle Niel,’ Ella yelled out. Jane had to cover her mouth at the way Daniel twitched when he heard her voice.  “Can i say goodnight as well?” she asked climbing up onto the couch not waiting for an answer inspiring the rest of the kid squad following suit and in an instant there  were five children gathered around her phone which Astrid had said she can hold. 

“Oh look… Ella,” he said with a grimace. 

“And Milo, Charlie and Astrid,” Oli said excitedly, proudly showing off his friends. 

“Hi Mr Oli’s dad and Mr Oli’s Appa,” Astrid said. “Are you having special mummy and daddy time?” she asked bluntly causing both M and Jane to choke. This wasn’t on them, this was on Minah and Sungjae. “I mean appa and daddy time? Does that mean Oli is finally going to get a brother or sister?” she asked. 

“Astrid sweetie,” Jane said, “I think Oli wanted to say goodnight to his dad’s,” she said steering the conversation back to where it should be. 

“Yes,” Oli nodded. “Goodnight Appa, Oli loves you loads,” he said sweetly before blowing a kiss to Daniel. “Goodnight Daddy, Oli loves you loads,” he said repeating the gesture. A chorus of goodnights followed, Jane had to grin at Charlie ‘Goodnight Other Mr Lee’s’  knowing for a fact Tyler and Daniel wouldn’t like that. 

“Goodnight baby, you have fun tonight and be good,” Tyler said to Oli. “We’ll see you tomorrow,” he said before hanging up. 

“All done, everyone ready for the movie now?” M asked from his side of the couch. The kids all nodded jumping back down and crawling into the fort. 

----

An hour later and almost everyone had fallen asleep, Astrid, Oli and Charlie were already fast asleep, Charlie curled up in M’s arm while Astrid and Oli cuddled up in the lounge. Ella was barely keeping her eyes open and Milo was trying to prove he was a big boy but she knew all too well that he was fighting a losing battle against the sleep 

“Should I take this three to bed?” M whispered as Charlie nuzzled into his chest.

“You think you can manage?” she asked, raising an eyebrow, M was strong but carrying three sleeping children all at once might have been tricky for him. 

“Hmm,” M hummed. “I’ll take Charlie up first and come back for those two,” he said standing up shifting Charlie to his other arm before making his way upstairs. 

“Ella, Milo, you two ready for bed?” Jane asked softly as Ella lifted her head nodding, eyes closing as she did so.  Milo nodded in agreement. “Do you think you can walk upstairs on your own or would you like to be carried?” she asked. 

“I can walk,” Ella yawned. “Maybe you can make sure i don’t get lost,” she murmured as M came down the stairs. “Goodnight Mr M,” Ella said to him. “I have to go to sleep, I got to be up early tomorrow,” she said as Jane stood up with her. 

“Milo you ready?” M asked picking up both Oli and Astrid. Milo stood up rubbing at his eyes. “Do you want a piggyback?” he offered and Milo nodded groggily moving to M, M bent down careful not to disturb the two younger ones as Milo climbed up onto his back. 

Putting the children to bed was easy, they either stayed asleep or fell asleep as soon their heads hit their pillows. “Goodnight,” Jane whispered as M hugged her from behind resting his chin on her shoulder. 

“And that is why we are the gold standard when it comes to parents,” he said as Jane grinned flicking his nose. “Hey,” he huffed .

“So it’s getting late it might even be nine thirty now,” she laughed. “As much as i wish i could go to bed right now or atleast cuddle up and watch a movie with you i have some work to do for the guys tour,” she sighed. “I am sorry,” she pouted 

“Don’t be,” M said straightening up and pressing a kiss to Jane’s forehead. “Not only are you super mum you are super manager, in this house we love a multi tasking queen,” he joked. “But i’ll get the coffee ready, “ he said. “Your usual Madame?” he asked. 

“Always,” she grinned. 

[luciimarii]

i find you in sad songs and sad children (ch. 1)

Shouto goes missing when he is four years old. Touya becomes a pro hero.

Ten years later, there's an attack on the USJ, and Touya is hired to bodyguard class 1-A. He doesn't expect to find his brother while he's at it.

(or: todobros roleswap.)

words: 2,784

ao3 link here

At first, Touya doesn't notice Shouto is missing.

It's not like Shouto is a very loud presence in the house, not like Natsuo or Dad or Touya himself. Shouto sticks to the shadows. He is every bit quiet and reserved a four year old should not be, but Touya tries not to think too hard about that, lest he start smoking in his rage.

So when he comes homes for the first time in a few days from one of his usual sneak outs, he doesn't notice anything out of the ordinary. It's just as silent as it always is, just as tense and suffocating. Sometimes in this house Touya has to struggle to breathe just because the air is so thick with his father's dumbassery.

He pads as silently as he can down the hall. His throat is dry from nights on the streets, and he needs water. But he stops short outside the kitchen when his ears catch on a too familiar sound - Fuyumi's muffled sobs.

"Yumi?" Touya asks quietly as he steps into the room, flinching at the state his twin is in. She's hunched over the kitchen table, head in her hands. The landline behind her is dangling from it's cable, nearly touching the floor, and she's still in her pajamas at three in the afternoon. She jolts when he enters, looking up at him with big, terrified eyes.

"Where the hell have you been? " She asks, just as quietly as him, because in this home children speak quietly.

Touya doesn't quite understand the question. It's been a long time since she asked him that, long since used to his periodic disappearances. "Around," he says, sitting down next to her but not touching her. "What's going on?"

"Mom," she starts, then breaks off into a choked sob, "Mom took Sho. They're gone. "

----------

Ten years later, Touya stands frozen in the middle of his living room.

The screen shows yesterday's attack on UA. His phone dangles in his limp hand. Nezu's words ring in his ears.

We need another low profile hero to stay with Class 1-A at all times. Will you do it?  

Touya's mouth had opened, the word no had been poised on his tongue. But he'd caught Keigo's raised eyebrows, and his little brother's face had flashed in his mind, and somehow, inexplicably, he found himself saying yes.

Excellent! You start Monday.  

"Holy shit," Touya says quietly. He closes his eyes, bringing one scarred hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. "I don't know how to deal with children."

He hears Keigo snort from the couch, and the channel change from the USJ Attack to some reality show. Touya fucking hates the shitty reality shows Keigo watches, but at least he doesn't have to hear about the USJ again. It's all he's heard about for the last twenty four hours.

"They're teenagers," Keigo says, "They can't be that hard."

----------

They were, in fact, that hard.

Within minutes, Touya finds himself bombarded by what he can only assume are toddlers disguised as teenagers - he reminds himself that he is not that much older than them, nor is he truthfully that much more mature. He also reminds himself of his own boyfriend, who is most likely also a toddler disguised as a pro hero.

His own former teacher, Aizawa, raises a hand as he activates his quirk. Even through the bandages, the man is terrifying. It's been a few years since Touya was on the recieving end of that red eyed glare, but he still has to fight the urge to shout Sorry, Sensei! and scramble back to his seat. The students react in much the same way, the ones that had been shouting excited questions at him now plopped back down in their seats. The pink skinned girl gives him an apologetic smile, and he nods back at her solemnly.

"Now," Aizawa says, "As I was saying. This is Hephaestus, an underground hero, and for extra security he will be joining us on our day to day. You can call him Todoroki-san-"

"Todoroki-san?!" The aforementioned very loud, very excited pink skinned girl shouts, half-standing from her seat, "Like, Endeavor Todoroki?!"

"No," Touya cuts in, lip curling, "Like Hephaestus Todoroki. No one else."

And he must say it a little too harshly, because silence ripples across the room for the first time since he stepped in. Except for the scratching of a pen on paper and quiet muttering - a green haired boy is frantically scribbling something in a notebook. Touya spares him a sideways glance. The blonde boy behind him smacks him upside the head and hisses Shut up!, and Touya figures the problem is dealt with for now.

"As Aizawa-Se - Aizawa said, I'll be accompanying you all from now on. Our goal is to keep a disaster like the USJ from happening again. Any questions?" He crosses his arms, sweeping his gaze across the room. Besides the purple haired boy in the back who seems half asleep, the green haired boy still scribbling in his notebook, and the blonde boy who is glaring at him so furiously Touya thinks he must have done something horrible to him in his past life, the class seems more than a little scared shitless. They stay eerily silent.

"I guess not. Well, then, I look forward to working with you all."

----------

Eighty percent of the time, chaperoning a gaggle of hero wannabes is not nearly as exciting or interesting as Touya expected it to be.

Instead, it's more comparable to having an office job. Touya used to imagine having an office job, just because he knew it would piss off his father, and he supposes now he basically has that. It's a lot of sitting in the back of the classroom while teachers drone on and on and on about things he either already knows or that he forgot as soon as he left school and has no interest in relearning. He spends a lot of time having hushed conversations with Shinsou and Tokoyami, who are both subdued and not-annoying enough that Touya can actually stand to be around them.

Shinsou's an interesting kid. He's the opposite of Touya, in that he was always told he could never be a hero. All Touya was ever told was that he was made to be one. But Shinsou is maybe one of the most heroic kids in the class, if you can get past his offstandish demeanor. Touya can see the heart of gold beneath the glares and eye bags.

He also ends up spending a lot of time analyzing the rest of the class. Like Iida Tenya - Touya swears he met him and his big brothers at all those Pro Hero balls his father dragged him to as a kid. Or Aoyama Yuuga and Midoriya Izuku, with their self destructive quirks that Touya can one hundred percent relate to. He takes special note of them even before Aizawa pulls him aside to specifically tell him about them. Maybe he can teach them a thing or too. He takes note of Bakugou Katsuki, too - with his destructive quirk and quick temper, he reminds Touya too much of what he himself was like at that age. Touya had gotten far too close to going down a very dangerous path because of his temper, and he doesn't want to watch Bakugou go down that same route.

The job isn't always boring, though. The other twenty percent of the time, Touya gets to deal with shenanigans.

Like one morning about a week into his job. For once, he gets to UA early, and he's not sure whether or not that's a good thing. Because Aizawa isn't here yet - nor is half the class - and there is a boy tied up in the middle of the room. Or rather, taped.

Touya stops in the doorway. He doesn't say much at first, instead just watching. A few slightly-singed desks have been shoved aside to leave a rough circle in the middle of the room, where a blonde boy (Touya thinks he recognizes him from the other hero class) is struggling on the floor and restrained with tape. A glance around the room reveals Bakugou has also been taped securely to the wall. Sero stands in between the two, panting and red faced. Midoriya is stood frozen and wide eyed next to Bakugou - a lock of his bangs is black and the rancid smell of burnt hair fills the room. The rest of the present students, who Touya knows as the remainder of the self proclaimed Bakusquad along with Shinsou, are spectating from the other side of the classroom. They all hold varying degrees of "What The Fuck" expressions.

Finally, Touya gives a long sigh. "What the hell? " And about ten different voices start shouting at him all at once.

He holds up a blue hand. "One at a time!" He snaps, and they go quiet. Pointing to the blonde boy, he asks. "Who is that?" Midoriya seems like the most unbiased source in all this, so Touya casts his gaze to him.

Midoriya squeaks at the attention. "Monoma Neito, sir," he says, "From 1-B. Sir."

Ah, one of those kids from the gaggle that had come to interrogate 1-A the other day. They'd all crowded around the door and, truly, been annoying - not that 1-A had reacted much better. Touya hums. "Why the tape? And drop the sir, kid."

"He and Kacchan got in a fight," Midoriya says, which prompts Bakugou to start screaming something so full of profanity that Touya can't keep up.

"Woah, okay, calm the fuck down," Touya says, "Why?"

From the other side of the room, Shinsou gives a tired sigh. "It's Monoma," he says, "And Bakugou. That's the explanation." Touya doesn't know Monoma very well, but he figures that tracks.

"Monoma started it, honestly," Midoriya elaborates. "He called Kacchan a villain, and made fun of some of our quirks..." He doesn't say who, which Touya figures is probably to save the kids' dignity. Touya can respect that, but he still notices the glances Midoriya sends Kaminari and Kirishima.

Touya shrugs. "Well, if that's the case, y'all better clean this place up before Aizawa gets here."

The room erupts into anarchy as the kids scramble to shove the desks back into place. Touya watches, leaning against the wall with crossed arms. A few more students enter and get roped into helping despite not even knowing what happened. Ashido leaves and comes back with a 1-B girl who drags Monoma off to his own class.

"The desks! " Kaminari wails, "They're burnt! "

There is a collective glare at Bakugou.

"So's my hair," Midoriya says very quietly, and Kirishima smacks Bakugou upside the head.

As Uraraka, who'd arrived in the midst of the chaos, works with Midoriya to coax his hair into some short of weird braid/ponytail to hide the burnt locks, Yaoyorozu makes the mistake of arriving to class. All eyes turn to her.

"Uhm," Yaoyorozu says, "Why are the desks burnt?"

"That's not important!" Kaminari says very quickly, "But can you make new ones? "

Yaoyorozu looks to Touya, who sighs. She sighs, too, which is very common in this classroom, then opens her lunchbox and downs three Capri-Suns. "I can try."

So, Touya won't lie. His job isn't the most exciting ever - but it's not boring. These kids are...

Alright, he'll admit it, these kids are growing on him. Like a fungus.

----------

"Admit it," Keigo says one night when he's laying on top of and suffocating Touya on the couch, "You love them." In the background, a woman in one of his reality shows throws a bottle at her sister in law.

"I don't, "  Touya snaps. Despite his harsh tone he runs his hands gently over Keigo's feathers. Keigo hums and tucks his face against his neck.

"You so do. You're a total softie and you love them. Don't lie to me."

"I'm not lying," Touya yawns, "They're just... some stupid kids." The conversation lulls there as the two of them doze off, curled together on the couch.

The next day, Touya does not realize there is a feather in his hair when he comes into work. This is the first in a series of unfortunate events that lead to Touya's doom.

----------

In fact, Touya comes to work with feathers on his person on more than one occasion. Then there's a picture taken of underground hero Hephaestus walking with number three hero Hawks. Then Midnight sneaks a glance over Touya's shoulder in the teacher's lounge and spots "Bird Brain" with a black heart emoji next to it, and her and Mic's two brain cells clink together just enough to figure it out.

Which is how Touya ends up with the entire UA staff knowing he's dating Keigo. And is also how he ends up immediately vacating the teacher's lounge to eat with the students.

He seats himself at the self-titled Dekusquad's table with no preamble, because they seem the least likely to A) interrogate him or B) yell at him. Plus, Shinsou's there, and Shinsou's a pretty chill kid.

Still, when he sits down the kids go eerily silent for a moment before Iida gathers himself and says, "Hephaestus-san! Why are you eating with the students and not the teachers, sir? Has there been an emergency?" He swings his arms about in that sharp way he always does as he talks, and his classmates, long used to it, dodge effortlessly.

"The emergency is that your teachers are idiots," Touya says after a long sip of Coca-Cola, "And that I am not allowed to have alcohol on campus."

Iida splutters over that statement for a long time before he cuts off at a startled squeak from Midoriya. The boy looks wide eyed down at his phone, and Touya watches with dread as tears form. He doesn't even chide the boy for having his phone out at school.

"Is everything okay, Deku?" Uraraka asks softly, placing a gentle hand on his upper arm. He flinches away, hiding his phone screen against his chest.

"It's fine," Midoriya says, and Touya takes note of the sudden speed to his breath. "I just - I need to use the bathroom. I'll be right back." Shinsou glares after him as he rushes away. Then, he turns to Touya.

"You gonna talk to him?" Shinsou asks, as though that's the obvious solution.

Eloquently, Touya says, "What?"

"You are the responsible adult."

"Shit," Touya realizes, "You're right." And he rushes to follow after Midoriya.

He finds the kid sitting in the corner of an accessible stall, his grip on his phone white-knuckled and head tucked against his knees. Touya doesn't enter the stall, instead seating himself in the entrance. Midoriya turns his head a little and winces when he spots him, pushing himself closer to the wall. There are so many sirens going off in Touya's head.

"Talk to me, kid," Touya says, "I know I ain't the nicest, but I can try to help."

Midoriya turns his head back to his knees. Touya doesn't judge him - the kid cries a lot, but that doesn't mean he wants anyone to see, and Touya gets that. He doesn't answer for a long time. But Touya doesn't press. He's comforted his siblings enough to sort of understand how to properly talk to a distressed child.

Finally, Midoriya whispers, "Mom said Dad's coming home."

Touya goes very, very still. Then, he asks, "What's your dad like, kid?"

"He's a Pro Hero."

Touya closes his eyes. "Kid..." he starts, then pauses to consider. Fuck it, he thinks, Someone shoulda done this for us. Then he says, "Do you want my number?"

"Huh?" Midoriya asks incredulously, and Touya realizes that's not something you ask your student. He sighs.

" Don't text me for stupid shit," he says, holding out his hand for the phone. "Just - if you need help. I'll come."

Maybe Keigo was right about him going soft. Midoriya holds the phone out and Touya leans forward to take it, not commenting on the way the boy's hands tremble, and he plugs in his number. He's going to keep an eye on Midoriya from now on, that's for sure. And maybe have a word with Aizawa.

Touya watches his phone like a hawk for days after. The Sports Festival comes and goes, and he receives no messages. But on days he knows Midoriya's father is home (he works mostly in America, he discovers), he barely breathes when Midoriya isn't in his sight. He waits for a message, and isn't sure whether or not he ever wants it to come.

Then, when Hosu is on fire, the message comes.

[katblu42]

I posted 491 times in 2021

85 posts created (17%)

406 posts reblogged (83%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 4.8 posts.

I added 313 tags in 2021

#thunderbirds fandom - 69 posts

#thunderbirds - 60 posts

#thunderbirds fanfiction - 40 posts

#thunderbirds are go - 35 posts

#virgil tracy - 27 posts

#fanartam - 20 posts

#fanartam2021 - 20 posts

#thunderfam - 15 posts

#scott tracy - 14 posts

#john tracy - 13 posts

Longest Tag: 69 characters

#trip was to take late hubby's memory to places we always said we'd go

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

Passing the Big Brother Baton pt 3

Part 3 is here! It's a little longer than the other parts, so I've put in a cut for length. It turns out John has a lot to say about being a big brother!

You can read the whole thing on AO3.

Gordon had just turned four, and with a new baby on the way the family had inevitably been throwing around the “big boy now” comments. Lucy had been careful to involve Gordon in the necessary process of setting up the nursery furniture in the room he would soon be sharing, worried that he might resent the impending invasion. Unlike any of the other boys, Gordon seemed reluctant to step into big brotherhood. For over a week now he’d been very clingy, wanting cuddles with Mom on the flimsiest of pretexts, and needing Mommy’s (or, to a lesser extent Daddy’s) help with tasks that he had more than mastered.

Lucy was wondering what challenges today would bring when there was a commotion in the kitchen – a clattering of kid-safe plates, cups and bowls as though someone was rummaging through cupboards and spilling items out onto countertop and floor tiles. Gordon had just gone in there. With a sigh, Lucy heaved herself to her feet to see what was happening. Before she reached the kitchen door the sound of John’s voice prompted her to stop and listen.

“What are you looking for?” the eight-and-a-half year-old enquired with a patience Lucy was sure she could not have mustered.

“My sippy cup,” came the simple reply, accompanied by more rummaging and clattering.

“Why?”

“For my juice.” Lucy could hear the exasperated sigh in Gordon’s voice suggesting this was the most obvious thing in the world, despite him not needing his sippy cup in well over a year.

“I was going to pour yours into a cup just like mine.”

Lucy was relieved her perceptive third child had been smart enough to avoid the term “big-boy cup.” The use of similar terms had been enough to induce tantrums over the last few days.

There were footsteps and a cupboard door squeaked open as John apparently went and retrieved Gordon’s sippy cup from the corner cupboard used to store all the retired-until-further-notice toddler items. Juice was poured, the lid popped on and the cup was slid across the countertop, presumably towards Gordon who had more than likely climbed up to sit on a stool opposite his big brother.

“You know, just because you won’t be the littlest anymore doesn’t mean Mom and Dad don’t love you just as much as they always did.”

Lucy was not surprised John was able to pinpoint the problem behind Gordon’s regressive behaviour, but she was impressed that he was able to articulate it so well, and that he was willing to address the issue head on. There was no answer from Gordon, and she found herself imagining him trying to process what John had said, probably with head slightly tilted to one side and a squinty frown.

“I was the littlest before you were born,” John said solemnly, and perhaps with a hint of nostalgia.

“Really?” The shock in Gordon’s voice had Lucy visualising his russet eyes widening. “But you’ve always been big!”

John laughed. A quiet, contented, closed mouth, chesty sound that Lucy always loved to hear.

“That’s because I’m older than you. And I’ll always be older than you. I’ll always be your big brother, just like Scott and Virgil will always be my big brothers, and all of us, including you, will be the baby’s big brother.”

“I don’t wanna be a big brother.” Lucy heard the pout, and the crossed arms in Gordon’s words.

“Why not?”

“Don’t wanna be sponstible. Wanna do fun stuff with Mommy, like before. Just me and Mommy. No baby.”

Lucy felt the prickle of tears in the corners of her eyes. John let out a sigh.

“Yeah, it kinda sucks that you don’t really get to choose to be a big brother. It just happens and you’re stuck with it. And it is a big responsibility. You need to look out for the little one, make sure they’re safe – like when I had to stop you from crashing the toboggan into the garage. You have to help them with things they can’t do yet – like I just helped you get a drink of juice. But being a big brother can be pretty cool. If you help mum look after the baby you’ll still get to spend time with her too. And you can play with the baby sometimes. Then when he gets bigger you get to teach him stuff.”

“Like what?”

“Well, the baby isn’t going to know anything about the world, or how things work, or being a Tracy. He’ll watch you and learn from you – even when you don’t know it. And when he’s old enough you’ll get to answer all his questions – like I answered when you asked me about how tadpoles turn into frogs. You’ll be able to teach him important things like where all the best hiding spots in the house are, and not to steal grandma’s cookies. Stuff Mom and Dad might not know, and stuff they might be too busy to help with – that’s the kind of big brother stuff you’ll need to do.”

There was a pause, and a soft shuffling and rustling of clothing. Lucy thought John might have moved around the kitchen counter so he could put an arm around his little brother, or a comforting hand on his back with a gentle rub.

“You don’t have to do it all yourself. That’s the best part about being a Tracy – we stick together, we all help each other. You have three big brothers you can come to whenever you need to.”

Lucy wished she could see her boys at that moment, barely holding herself back from entering the kitchen just to see their expressions, to see the demonstration of exactly the big brotherly love John was speaking of. She could hear the gentle scrape and clacking of cups that suggested the boys were sipping their drinks, perhaps even toasting the moment, before cups were tapped back down onto the countertop.

“I’ll tell you a secret,” she heard John quietly continue. “I wasn’t sure how I felt about being a big brother at first.” This was news to Lucy, and she wondered if she had missed something that she should have seen four years ago. “But as soon as Mom and Dad brought you home I knew I would do anything to make you happy and keep you safe.”

“You didn’t want to be my big brother?” The teariness in Gordon’s voice was heart-wrenching.

“I changed my mind really quick. I found out having a little brother is the best feeling in the world. There’s nothing like the way you looked up at me when I held you in my arms, or the feel of your tiny hand wrapped around my finger. And you were fun to play with, especially when you were big enough to laugh.”

“I’m still fun to play with!” Gordon insisted, then doubt crept into his voice. “Will you still play with me after the baby’s born?”

“Of course.” John laughed again, this time a bright chuckle.

It seemed the serious conversation was over and the long silence prompted Lucy to begin to withdraw. As she walked away she heard the beginnings of a whole new discussion.

“Are we sure the baby’s gonna be a boy?” Gordon asked

“Yeah, Mom and Dad and the doctor are all pretty sure. Why?”

“Do you think I could ask if we could have a sister instead?”

As curious as Lucy was to hear how John would handle that one, she kept walking, unable to stop the broad smile spreading across her face, and the swelling of absolute love in her heart for all her boys.

38 notes • Posted 2021-07-29 10:11:06 GMT

#4

Seven Sentence Tag Meme

Thanks @gumnut-logic for the tag. My main WIP right now is for MiniBang, (so I had to actually type this one up because the rest of my WIPs are in handwritten notebooks!) so I had to find something else!

“I’m having a Mom Day,” Virgil said quietly, without turning his gaze away from the white caps churning the ocean’s surface.

“Do you want some company?”

Virgil shifted a little so he could turn and look up at his big brother, surprised by the question and searching sapphire eyes for meaning behind the words.

“Depends,” Virgil replied, prompting a raised eyebrow from Scott. “Do you want to talk about Mom?”

It was Scott’s turn to gaze out over the ever-moving Pacific, letting the wind and the birds fill the silence between them for a long moment.

“I think maybe I should.”

I'm really not sure who has and who hasn't been tagged already (apologies if I tag someone who's already been tagged). @rachfielden-xo, @uniwolfcorn, @ak47stylegirl if you want to play.

43 notes • Posted 2021-05-29 04:12:26 GMT

#3

Random headcanon.

When the boys are little Scott has a habit of climbing on things, the higher the better, so he can jump off and fly. (This part isn't my headcanon - I've seen mention of this in many fics, but . . . )

As a result Virgil has developed a habit of providing a safe, soft landing for his big brother. He fairly quickly develops an uncanny knack of calculating exactly the right place and having something there precisely at the right time to prevent injury (and to a lesser extent damage to furniture, structures, vehicles, garden beds . . .). There are (many) occasions when the only thing Virgil has at hand to provide said safe, soft landing in time is himself.

There is a stretch of time where Virgil winds up carrying a cushion from one of the couches around with him. It's a large enough cushion that when he hugs it to his chest it covers him from neck to knee. Lucy notices him lugging it around whenever the boys go out to play - yes, even outside - and she wonders what his attachment to the cushion is. Then she realises it's not always the exact same cusion, and it puzzles her more. Eventually, in an effort to keep her soft furnishings where they belong, she buys him an oversized teddy bear. The plush toy is only a little smaller than Virgil is himself and he loves it - takes it everywhere.

It's a few weeks later when Lucy see's the bear deployed, lightning fast, thrown into the path of her eldest son as he descends at speed from the branch of a tree towards the grass below!

45 notes • Posted 2021-08-17 11:27:50 GMT

#2

In Pieces

This little thing was trying to distract me the whole time I was writing my Easter Tag fic! It is 4am.  This may not have been adequately proofread!

There was no mistaking the tone of the raised voice emanating from behind the closed door, even if most of the words were muffled.  Scott didn’t dare attempt to get any closer than the safety of the doorway of his own bedroom to hear more.  Seeing John’s cautious approach to the bedroom in question, Scott caught his brother’s attention and beckoned him over.

“What’s going on?” John whispered.

“I’m not sure, but there’s no way I’m going in there to find out.”

“. . . not the first time . . . How many times, Virgil? . . . need to be told?!”  The few words they could make out were enough to tell them how much trouble their brother was in, and a potential reason why.  “. . . in pieces!  . . . priceless antique . . . family heirloom . . . know you are never to touch!  And . . . in my office to begin with!”

The two boys stood silently behind the partially closed door to Scott’s room, ready to push the door to at the first sign of their father’s exit from the room on the other side of the hall.  Neither of them wished to be in Virgil’s shoes at that particular moment, nor did they wish to catch their father’s attention when he was in this kind of temper.

“. . . going to do with you? . . . how to deal with this . . . if your mother was here!”  Scott winced, and John sucked in a long gasp.  That was a low blow so soon after the loss. “. . . you ever learn?!  . . . even look at you right now.”

Not once did Scott or John hear a voice other than their father’s.  In fact there seemed to be very few pauses for any kind of response during the five minute tirade before all fell silent.  When the door across the hall began to open, Scott’s door was swiftly and silently closed.  They were able to hear a murmur in the hall, and John suspected it to be an instruction to “stay in there until further notice” before the door was emphatically closed.

Jeff didn’t exactly slam the door on the way out, but he made sure it was most definitely firmly shut! His blood was boiling.  The boy had been repeatedly told he should ask before pulling something apart to “see how it works.”  Certain things were off limits.  Especially when they resided in his office, which the boys were never supposed to be in unless he summoned them there.  And this particular item was priceless and irreplaceable.  When he’d seen it broken down into dozens of clockwork pieces spread out across Virgil’s bed he had felt himself shaking with uncontainable anger.

His grandfather had given him the curious Clockwork Marvel with the little figures of woodsmen and their axes, saws and hammers, and the little mountain climber at the back. Jeff had been intrigued by it every time he had visited with his grandparents as a boy.  He’d seen it in motion a few times, but not since he was Gordon’s age. Even back then the moving parts had been deemed fragile, so only Grandpa was ever allowed to wind it up and get it going.  It had been given to Jeff when his Grandpa had passed away and Grandma had explained that it had belonged to Grandpa’s father, and had been handed down to him from an uncle who’d been a clock maker.  Jeff’s boys had only ever seen it up on a high shelf behind his desk.  Jeff had never wound it up to show them the movement – in fact he wasn’t even sure he knew where the winding key was.  Virgil had never shown any great interest in the thing, so why now?  

His 12 year old son had stood silently staring at the carpet the whole time he’d been talking to him – well, lecturing him to be honest – and it had only infuriated him more. Virgil had nodded in acknowledgement once or twice, so at least he knew the boy had been listening, but he was still not sure the message had sunk in.  After all, so much of what he’d just said had been said before.  Virgil was old enough now to know better, and Jeff didn’t have the patience to deal with repeating old lessons in appropriate behaviour. Lucy would have handled this better. Hell, maybe if she were here the boy would have had something else to occupy his time.  But she wasn’t here.  He still had to keep reminding himself of that.

He needed a drink.

 That evening when the family gathered around the dinner table there was a notable absence.  It wasn’t unusual for Virgil not to come down for dinner right away.  He would often get so caught up in what he was doing that he’d just forget about meals until the growling of his stomach became too loud and insistent to ignore. Even then sometimes the need to “just finish this little bit” before stopping was enough to override the growling.  No, the unusual thing was that their father didn’t mention the absence.

“Where’s Virgil?” Gordon asked around his first mouthful of food, spitting crumbs onto the table.

“I’ll go find him,” Scott volunteered, rising from his seat.

“No,” their father said, firmly.

“No?”  Scott could barely believe what he’d heard.  His brothers stopped and stared, Gordon with his mouth hanging open, Alan only because John had stopped chopping up his chicken for him. “But -”

“You heard me,” Jeff reiterated.  “He is to stay in his room.”

The subject was closed. The boys knew from his tone, his expression, the subtle shift in his body language that there was no point in saying more on the matter.  The steel that had been in Scott’s eyes and the set of his shoulders took a moment to soften, but soften it did, and the others turned their attention back to their plates.  The mood around the table remained subdued throughout the rest of the meal.  It wasn’t silent.  In the Tracy household mealtimes were never silent affairs, but Scott and John spoke only in response to their little brothers, and Jeff said nothing.

As soon as dinner was finished Jeff disappeared, as was his habit lately, probably to his office.  The boys had all but given up looking for their dad in the evenings.  They cleared the table, Scott took Alan upstairs to get him ready for his bath while John and Gordon argued over who’s turn it was to wash and who’s to dry the dishes.  And the normal night-time routine ran its course without anyone hearing a peep out of Virgil.

Without Virgil to help with getting the youngest two bathed and into pyjamas, forcing them to brush teeth and get into bed, and reading stories those duties kept Scott and John busy. Once Alan was asleep and Gordon had reluctantly agreed to let Scott read instead of Virgil, John went up to the attic nook to unwind with the relaxing familiarity of his telescope and the stars.

By the time John came down from the attic Scott was already sequestered away in his room.  Not yet asleep – John could see the light under the door, which probably meant Scott was trying to catch up on homework before turning in.  He didn’t think much of it as he headed for the room he shared with Virgil, which also had light leaking from beneath the door.

He opens the door to find Virgil still dressed, tinkering away at something on his desk, a few bits and pieces still laid out meticulously on the bed, and completely oblivious to John entering and crossing to his own bed.  There’s no reaction to John moving about the room and getting into his pyjamas.

“Virgil?” he quietly prompts.  “You okay?”

There’s a sigh and a slump of shoulders, but he doesn’t put down what he’s working on or turn around.

“I’m fine.”

“You know it’s almost midnight, right?”  John knows that will make little difference to his night-owl brother.  There is no response, so John tries again.  “You missed dinner.  Do you want me to get you a snack or something?”

“I’m not hungry.” There’s a ratchety clicking sound and Virgil finally puts the object down and turns towards John.  “Thanks though.”

John can see there have been tears at some stage.  The smile that Virgil tries to offer him is weak, and the spark is missing from those gentle brown eyes.  John isn’t sure how to fix what’s wrong and he almost decides to go and fetch Scott, but changes his mind at the realisation that the smile is for his benefit – so he won’t worry about his wounded brother.

“We can talk about what dad said -”

“No, it’s okay.” Virgil turned back to the desk, picking up a tiny screwdriver and adjusting something.  “I screwed up.  But I can fix it.  I’m okay. I promise.”

John doesn’t have to hear the sniffle to know there are more tears.  He closes the gap between them, bare feet padding on the carpet.  He’s surprised to see the little mechanical woodsmen Virgil is tinkering with.  He never realised just how complex their dad’s clockwork ornament really was when broken down into its many parts, but then he’d never been this close to it before.  It was more than half reassembled and he instinctively understood Virgil’s focus.  He placed a hand on Virgil’s shoulder and gave a simple squeeze.

“Anything I can do to help?”

Virgil shook his head, as John knew he would.  This was something he needed to do by himself.

John left him to it, went to the bathroom to finish getting ready for bed and returned to find Virgil had turned on his desk lamp and angled it away from John’s bed.  When John flicked the main bedroom light off Virgil was cast in silhouette against the soft glow of the lamp.  John watched him for a moment before sliding himself beneath his bedcovers and whispering goodnight.  Virgil was too engrossed in his repairs to respond.

 Despite the late hour at which he’d dragged himself to bed, Jeff was up in a timely manner the following morning.  Scott was already helping Alan with his breakfast in the kitchen, and Gordon was making a mess of pouring cereal into his bowl.  He stayed in the kitchen long enough to say good morning, make himself a coffee and grab a piece of toast before retreating to his office.  

The events of the previous afternoon were still playing on his mind as he set his coffee mug down on the desk.  His eyes were drawn up to the high shelf where his clockwork woodsmen should be . . . and there it was.  The marvellous little ornament that he’d last seen in so many tiny pieces all over Virgil’s bed the day before was whole again.  It seemed to sparkle and gleam in a way that he didn’t remember it having ever done before.  Intrigued, he carefully lifted it down off the shelf and placed it on the desk. Neatly slotted into its hole in the back of the base was the winding key.  He knew that had been missing for some time.

Suddenly it twigged. Virgil must have found the key.  His mechanically curious boy had somehow figured out what the key fitted into and needed to know what it did.  One thing would have led to another from there.  Jeff knew the old machinery was not working well back when he was a boy, so if Virgil had wound it up he would have seen something was amiss.  The innate need to know how it worked – or how it should work – would have been the driving force behind taking it apart.

Now that it was back together Jeff could see in his mind’s eye how each piece had been laid out in painstakingly ordered fashion on Virgil’s bed.  He should have trusted the boy.  Since he was four or five years old he had never failed to put pack together whatever he’d pulled apart.  (There were a few mishaps with the reassembly before then, but not since.)  But this was by far the most complex, the most finely detailed piece of machinery Virgil had ever attempted.

Hardly realising he was doing so, he wound the key.  Once, twice, three times, just like Grandpa used to do.  Tiny clockwork gears and motors clicked and whirred as the miniature woodsmen swung their axes, beat their hammers and push-pulled their saws. The little, tiny mountain climber worked his tiny pick.  And tinkling metallic chimes played music.  Music! He had never even known his Grandpa’s clockwork machine was meant to play music.

Tears ran down his cheeks. Many childhood memories of gazing at this fascinating ornament in wonder came flooding back.  This was more than he’d ever seen the machine do, more than he’d imagined it could do.  And his talented little boy had done all this in less than a day, brought new life to an almost forgotten antique.

He ran up the stairs, startling Scott, who tried to ask if something was wrong.  Ignoring the inquiry he flung open the door to Virgil and John’s room with a thud of doorknob on wall that woke John, but not Virgil.  

“Dad?!” John’s voice was laced with concern, but Jeff didn’t even register that he’d spoken.  He dropped to his knees beside Virgil’s bed, ran his hand across the back of the boys shoulders as he slept on his stomach, gave the far shoulder a squeeze, and a firm, but gentle shake.

“Virgil?  Son, wake up.”  The boy stirred, mumbled incoherently and tried to roll over. Jeff took the opportunity to sit the boy up and wrap him in a tight hug.  “Virgil!”

This time something in his father’s voice registered with Virgil and he blinked his eyes open.  Seeing, and feeling his father’s tears, and being wrapped in his embrace, Virgil’s heart leapt into his throat.

“Dad?!  What’s wrong?”  His dad was crying and hugging him, something really bad must have happened.  Again.

Jeff pulled back from the hug, gripping Virgil’s shoulders and looking into his son’s eyes, immediately regretting the fear he saw there.  Something else to feel guilty about.

“Son, I’m so sorry!” His hand reached up to stroke unruly dark locks.  “I don’t know how you did it.  I don’t know why I doubted you could, but . . . I,” he faltered, his voice cracking. Virgil stared, dumbfounded.  “Thank you.  For fixing the woodsmen.”

Virgil was enveloped in another hug, and he hugged back, still a little bewildered.  It felt good to have his father’s arms wrapped around him. It had been a long time since they’d had a moment like this, and yesterday had felt so horrible.

“There are still bits that need fixing,” Virgil tried to explain.  “Some of the cogs have broken teeth, there are parts that are just loose because they’ve been worn down.  It should work better now it’s all clean, but it’s not perfect.”

“It works better than I’ve ever seen it.”  He smiled at his son, beaming with pride and pure childish joy.  “I had no idea it was supposed to play music.  I’ve never heard it do that before.”  Virgil’s eyebrows raised.  “You did an amazing job, son.  Thank you.”

49 notes • Posted 2021-04-02 17:03:23 GMT

#1

Lunar eclipse over Sydney 26 May 2021

Still learning how to use this camera, and very much experimenting with photographing the night sky. Sorry for the blurry images - it's really hard to shoot the moon when it's hidden in shadow!

92 notes • Posted 2021-05-26 15:37:01 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →